


Wrapped In Glory

by egzantirik



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Complete, Eventual Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:45:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 108,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7734421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egzantirik/pseuds/egzantirik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New in town, struggling to pay your rent, taxes and tuition fees all at once; you manage to find yourself a part-time job in Bulls Eye Bar and Pizzeria. The more you find yourself knocking on the same door every other day to deliver the owner in red the pizzas he orders, the more you become entangled in something you're not sure you're ready for yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. white hair;

Lights flickered, illuminating the dark, ominous pavement of the street, adorned with ancient looking buildings of many years; some quite new, some having gone through restoration only recently to improve their looks as they seemed to be damaged quite often due to reasons unknown. The area itself was a rather unattractive mix of neoclassical buildings with a few mansions and churches designed and built in Gothic style. The streets were eerily void of and human life, the sound of cars whizzing past distant. Some of the lights illuminating the roads were broken, and some of them were too dim, clouding your vision. It made you glue your eyes on the road in front of you, delicate fingers curled tighter around the handlebars, your palms and the ends of your fingers covered by your leather, fingerless gloves which shielded your hands from the wind hitting your cycling frame, avoiding the sweat inside of your palms altering your grip on the handlebars. Your legs drew circle after circle in an attempt to reach your location as rapidly as you could with no injuries so you could go back to your flat safe and sound. You would be lying if you said it didn’t unnerve you, the idea of being all by yourself to deliver your last order in late night; but you had no other choice. You swore you would do the best you could to keep this job the first day you were hired.

 

You were grateful for your boss and his generosity, really. He was kind enough to hire a student like you and flex your shifts for when you didn’t have classes, having heard from you how you were new in town with no friends at all, how you were in dire need of money and how you had been trying your best to cope with everything at once, resulting in your working night shifts. It wasn’t easy, nothing came without a price. He made sure you did your best at work; cleaning tables, greeting customers with a big smile on your face and delivering orders. Even though you couldn’t ride a motorcycle and it concerned your boss at first since it was listed clearly in your job description, you quickly informed him that you were perfectly capable of riding a bicycle and that you could cycle to wherever the orders were to be delivered to, fast and efficiently too.

 

As unusual as it might seem, you got the job done. Not to mention it was better for you too, you got your daily exercise in and didn’t have to bother learning how to ride a motorcycle and deal with the odd motorcyclophobia you have somehow managed to develop over the years. Perhaps it had something to do with the news and how many people had been reported dead in accidents so far. The thought of being on a motorcycle was enough to send shivers down your spine, let alone riding it. Then again, you were quite desperate and as tiring as it might be, you weren’t going to complain about having to cycle all over the Residential Area and sometimes even farther; not when you were getting your quite decent pay cheque for all your hard work and efforts by the end of the week. It was no way enough for a student trying to get by, but it provided you with the majority of your income. In your free time you participated in various other activities; as you had been told by your friends in the theater club you had ‘angelic’ of a voice so you formed a three-manned band with your close friends and sung on the streets to make up for the rest. Not only was it fun, but you also got to earn money for something you had fun doing. Admittedly however, you had grown to love your part-time job at Bulls Eye, the environment you worked in and your coworkers.

 

Your feet on pedals slowed down considerably until you tugged the brakes with your ring and pinky fingers to stop the smooth gliding of the vehicle, making sure to secure it on its stand as you placed your right foot on the ground. You took off your helmet and tucked it beneath your arm while the other carefully lifted the still warm pizza boxes stacked on top of each other from where it was located, palm spread on the cartoon to balance it on your hand and forearm, warmth of the food inside spread to inside of your hand the more you held it. You knocked the wooden door thrice, the smile with which you addressed to the customers plastered picture perfect on your features.

 

“Bulls Eye delivery!”

 

Your stop, of course as always, was the titular bar that operated by the name ‘Devil May Cry’.

 

Over the course of your visits, you met the owner of the shop more than once and you would go as far to say that you have somehow managed to make friends with him, even though his rather peculiar style at first baffled you. Never had you seen a man like him especially of his age with snowy locks and bright blue eyes, which dare you say made him look older than he probably was; his youthful features in perfect contrast with his pale and milky skin, which made his plump lips look redder than they were. His style consisted of black and red leather; his extravagant red coat that ran below his knees and covered his broad shoulders, three belts strapped on his built torso to secure it in its place. You were neither too tall nor too short, but standing in front of him you had to crane your neck to look at him in the face as you only barely reached his chest. Whenever you visited him for a delivery, which was more than frequent if you had to say so yourself, he would greet you with a cunning smirk on his lips, his eyes full of amusement, his entertainment palpable in the way he spoke and moved almost as if he knew something no one else did.

 

He would brighten up considerably and make a show of getting up on his feet, which would often be propped on the wooden desk inside his office, by kicking himself off his chair, his arms wide open as if he were greeting an old acquaintance and were about to give them a big, warm hug. He would call your name with an adjective describing how sweet he thought you were attached to it, his leather clad fingers, with the exception of his thumb and index fingers, would wiggle in excitement before snatching he box from your hold; peeking at its contents in childlike wonder. Though it would be short lived as he found something he disliked on the cooked dough; he would shake his head and purse his lips in disappointment before pointing an accusing finger in your way and claiming you were doing it on purpose.

 

You had no idea what he had been talking about for the longest time until your boss said that he would always ask for ‘no olives’ but he would insist on mishearing his words ‘extra olives’ intentionally until he decided to close his large tab. Your boss then would proceed to talk about how the man didn’t have a penny yet kept ordering, how stingy he could be. You never said a word about how he tipped you each time though, because he would see you off with a wave of his hand and his index finger on his lips.

 

A voice echoed. Though you couldn’t quite catch it, you didn’t really had to, knowing the doors were unlocked at all times; no matter how brave of him you thought that was. You pushed the door open with your shoulder while holding the two boxes carefully to make sure it didn’t fall on the floor and leave everyone disappointed and made yourself in.

 

The sight that greeted you wasn’t that of one you had grown used to.

 

Battered jukebox located on the corner was on, humming a soft guitar in the background. You saw the owner of the shop whose name you learned to be Dante situated on his chair with his booted feet propped up on the table lazily, and the blonde girl leaning on the side of his wooden desk. You had seen her around more than once before, and she had been kind to you during whatever little interaction you had. What, rather who, you had never seen before was the white haired male sitting on the couch, one of his calves resting on his knees, arms thrown unceremoniously over the back of the leather couch. You took in his frame, the way snowy white locks framed his milky skin and made his blue eyes stand out even more, the way his pink lips curved, the blasting headphones around his neck, his blue dominated leather and denim outfit hugging his frame and granting a generous sight to those in vicinity. He looked nothing short of confident in his posture, in the way he was relaxed into the couch as if he owned the disaster of a place. His feet moved in a broken rhythm that didn’t match the one humming in the background, you noted dully, it was to his own choice of song playing.

 

You must have been ogling him because when he looked at you sharply with one eyebrow raised questioningly, you felt your breath get stuck in its way down to your lungs, leaving you breathless quite literally in its wake. Blood rushed to your face and a bright red dusted your cheeks and your ears, having absolutely nothing to do with the unforgiving wind of outside and your cycle here earlier. You quickly averted your gave and noted how your lips had parted in your daze, which humiliated you even further when you turned to look at Dante who had an all-knowing look adorning his features, lips wide in a smirk at having caught you red-handed. You forced a smile on your lips and walked to where he was sitting as he made no moves of getting up whatsoever, looking at the receipt before placing the boxes on the table.

 

“G-good evening!” You cleared your throat quickly when your voice came out hoarser than you intended to and cracked, trying to cover it up with an even higher-pitched, “Here’s your large size prosciutto and garlic potato pizzas with extra olives on top, sir! That will be 22.99 for two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Here you go! I hope join me in this story as it progresses, hopefully for the better.


	2. blue eyes;

_“G-good evening!” You cleared your throat quickly when your voice came out hoarser than you intended to and cracked, trying to cover it up with an even higher-pitched, “Here’s your large size_ _prosciutto and garlic potato pizzas with extra olives on top, sir! That will be 22.99 for two.”_

 

The accusing smirk on Dante’s face was almost too much and enough to make you lose your composure in front of him. He had seen it, there was no way he hadn’t caught the way you took in the newcomer’s frame from head to toe in utter interest and awe; his looks spoke for him and almost made you believe for a brief moment that he could read your mind the moment your eyes locked and he was silently letting you know the fact that he could and definitely would do something about the spark of interest in his fellow companion you displayed, sooner or later. The thought that he would interfere and say something obscure and completely indecent made your stomach turn in nausea; it wouldn’t be too farfetched to think given how every once in a while he would make a crude comment on your looks, you had managed to gather as much on his personality from your frequent visits. You could feel another pair of light blue orbs on you, and you distinctly noted it to be those of the blonde companion of the white haired man, not the young man who resembled a surprisingly striking resemblance to Dante. For a moment, you wanted to think about the possibility of his being a father or an uncle, however; you didn’t let you didn’t let you thoughts wander to places that didn’t concern you, not now, at least, distracting yourself from the awkward encounter.

 

When you escaped his ever-knowing looks, the man to whom you addressed relented and heaved a dramatic sigh as he dragged his feet from the corner of the table and onto the ground where he planted them and leaned his forearms on the wooden surface of the desk in front of him, tip of his index finger poking the box on top of the other open to examine its contents. His features melded into one of disappointment quickly enough, leaving the corners of his plump lips curled downward in discontent. He heaved another sigh and shook his head from side to side before flicking the box open and taking a pre-cut slice to eliminate all the olives he didn’t ask for on top. You noted the way Trish also reached for a slice and took a bite, neither of them showing the decency to pay your services, again. Not that it surprised or scandalized you anymore. This time it was your turn to give the white haired man of interest a disappointed look and a glare, placing your hands on either side of your waist, still carefully holding your helmet in place under your arm. Even though you shouldn’t have let irritation get the best of you especially in face of a customer, you had dealt with him just enough times to know how he would react, which was not at all.

 

“Mr. Dante! This is the fourth time this week, and over thirtieth time this month alone that you didn’t pay for your order! Boss man says he will ‘ream me a new one’ if I keep letting you off the hook, you know! He says he will cut from my pay for each delivery, you know! I’ll have to eat all the food you order by myself, you know!”

 

Your response was a hearty chuckle from the male in front of you who he took a big bite out of the slice which he apparently cleaned from olives and was no longer discontent with, leaning back in his chair comfortably, feet coming back up to cross on the corner of the desk loudly. He pointed an index finger at you and waved it almost as if he were scolding you for having done something bad, shoulders shaking in silent laughter, muffled by his food. Came his nonchalant response with a shrug of his broad shoulders, stained lips curled.

 

“Good one! Tell that old man ta loosen up a bit ‘nd get ri o’that stick up his ass! He should be thankful ‘m keepin’ the business rollin’ and that he has a pretty face like you coverin’ fer him. Also told ya, ‘s ‘just Dante’. Stop makin’ me look old.”

 

“You are an old man, though.” Replied the blonde woman much to your chagrin, resulting in a friendly bite between the two.  

 

You felt the flush on your cheeks lose its heat gradually as you relaxed in the vicinity of the bar, comforted by the familiar comebacks and the aura of the man, no matter how shady and dangerous he actually seemed to be which unnerved you quite often, resulting in your gradually losing your interest in the man situated behind you. You shook your head from side to side and closed your eyes, fingers coming up to massage your temple in an attempt to ease the fatigue from the muscles there. Even before you said anything about the price he had to pay in exchange for the food he was currently devouring, you knew that you would lose an argument you were to have with him no matter what. To your somewhat agony, he addressed to the boy you so shamelessly ogled only minutes ago and told him to get his ass over there and eat otherwise he would be just getting in the way later on, to which he got a scoff and what you presumed was the middle by the scoff Dante shot behind you, you only speculated, not finding it in yourself to look back at him once again, not when the red on your cheeks had subdued at last. Getting in the way of what, you couldn’t help but wonder.

 

“As if I could say something like that! Please, that was supposed to be my only day off but is as of now my twelfth hour. Would you kindly cooperate with me for once? My finals are around the corner, too. Maybe boss man will let me off the hook for once, what do you say?”

 

You could be quite persistent and stubborn at times and each time you made a delivery to Devil May Cry, you would spend at least fifteen minutes trying to convince the white haired man to relent and just pay for the food for once; however with your upcoming headache and fatigue finally catching up to your muscles, you felt spent, giving in up vain sooner than you would on a normal day. As if you could sit down and have a friendly chat with a customer you only barely knew in this disaster of a place this late in time? Dante seemed to be nice and you honestly started liking his colorful personality and remarks, but your mother’s advice always echoed in your mind: he could be going on killing sprees and butchering people for all you knew! If you had to gauge the situation and approach it rather realistically with your personal feelings and fears cast aside; he was indeed a shady guy who had ancient looking swords plastered all over the place. You were pretty sure you caught sets of bullets laying around the place, hinting he might have recently fired a gun in the vicinity of his bar which honestly didn’t surprise you as much as it should have; not to mention the display case that looked too shady to be just for show. Devil May Cry reeked of cheap booze and was dominated nastily by something acrid and sour, like Dante himself, who for some reason had no customers despite having a bar of his own. What did he even do for a living, anyway?

 

Something about him made him a dangerous man, even you could tell, but much to your confusion, you felt both relieved whenever you stepped into the bar and found yourself in his dominating presence, finding comfort in his confident strikes, and absolutely terrified in a manner you couldn’t quite explain. Even boss man seemed to trust him to the extent he would stretch the rules he set for him, which at first you thought to be quite peculiar since your boss was quite the terrifying man who would use brute force to solve his problems, especially the drunk customers trying to start bar fights, trying to harass you, trying to sneak past without paying… He was easily irritable, however he seemed to cool off when with Dante, dismissing him, and you had even seen him serve Dante booze whenever he came over to the bar on the house. You could see it in the way they interacted that your boss never really wanted the man to pay up; either because Dante was providing him with another kind of payment you weren’t aware of or because he was quite intimidated by him and what he was capable of. Or maybe they were just friends who trusted each other beyond your perception. Either way, if your boss was reluctant to pick a fight with him, there was no reason why you shouldn’t be following his path.

 

 That manner you couldn’t explain; it was raw instinct clawing in your chest more than anything else, fighting your trust and thoughts revolving around how Dante was actually a good man and couldn’t mean you any harm if he tried, that said he was dangerous. He was an observant man, having noticed your reluctance to befriend him at first glance, Dante coaxed you to be more open with him and the people around him and you were somewhat grateful for that. He commented on how dedicated you were and sometimes about how good you looked in your skirt and shirt whenever he came over to the bar, which earned himself a slap from your boss and a flush complimenting your skin, of course. He would make sure you said something before you left, too, force you to engage in a conversation with him; even went as far to comment on how cowardly he found how you wouldn’t put up a fight to be when you delivered for the first time. Excuse me for not wanting to be butchered like this, especially with the strange murders flashing on TV, you thought to yourself, but had your first argument with him much to his amusement; you figured later on that he actually wanted you to. No matter how hot-headed you could be in actuality, how dangerous this town really was made you take a cautious step back often.

 

“I say,” He began investigating another slice and he took his sweet time ridding it of the obstacles that were olive slices on top, feeding himself yet another generous bite, “Add it to my tab. Geez, twelfth? Sounds like hell ta me.” His lips curled and he offered you a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, finger still pointed you way though it stilled a while ago, this time accusing. “How ‘bout ya sit down next ta the emo kid in the corner ‘nd have a slice o’this? C’mon, ‘ll call him ‘nd tell him ta go ta hell. I just dun have any money, a’ight. ‘S just how it is. The business ‘s clamped, no nothin’. Cut me some slack, tell Lester I’ll get it done eventually.” You didn’t have to look behind to the said ‘emo kid’ to know he shot a nasty glare in Dante’s way, because the smug son of a beautiful mother was grinning widely as if he had just won an argument.

 

It was that unwarranted feeling inside of you that left you still reluctant in his presence though, even after good three months of service, even after all he had done to ease you up around him. Though if you were being completely honest, you felt the most comfortable being around him of all the people in this room. The blonde woman, whenever you encountered, made chills run down your spine no matter how friendly she seemed to approach you. You felt something similar when in the presence of Dante, though his felt way more menacing and sharp on your tongue, his attitude made up for it. Having laid your eyes on the new boy you have never seen in the shop before, you felt the same vibes from him, making you take an instinctive step back.

 

Whatever it was about this shop, Dante and the people around him; you kind of wished you had never met them. Because the more you felt threatened by them, the more you wanted to know the reason why, the more you found yourself wanting to play this dangerous game of theirs with them, the more you wanted to be a part of it. This attraction of yours to the blonde woman and her white haired companions seemed to lure you in.

 

You relented at last with a final sigh and offered a crooked smile he knew to be directed at his offer, both your hands secured the helmet under your arm on your head. “I’ll make sure to tell boss man to do something about that, then. Enjoy your meal and have a nice evening, sir.” With that you turned on your heels and strode towards the door, not being able to stop yourself from casting another glance in the newcomer’s way, head ducked. You were stopped at the doors before you could push them open by Dante’s addressing your name, making you turn your head to look at him with curiosity.

 

“Drop by sumtime outta that work attire o’yours, yeah?” When you raised a questioning eyebrow at him, head crooked, he cocked a strained finger in the boy seated on the leather couch nonchalantly, as if he were referring to an object rather than a person.

 

“The kid needs friends, ya know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone caught the tiny tiny reference? Let me know if you did.


	3. his name;

_“The kid needs friends, ya know.”_

 

It had been two quite hectic weeks since you last spoke to Dante. Your being nose deep in your studies and having to work didn’t help at all, you were running on low sleep and messed up your body’s schedule in the process of trying to catch up with everything, ending up looking like hell almost every day until you turned in the last of your papers for the semester, much to your fortune followed by a beautiful fifteen day break during which you could finally get some much deserved rest. You still had to attend to the club’s rehearsals every now and then but it was something you enjoyed doing, you got the acting bug quite early and it filled you with joy whenever you could spend some quality time creating something and simply having fun with your friends who enjoyed it as much as you did.

 

You would be a terrible liar if you said that during that time it never occurred you to jump on your bicycle, cycle over and knock on Devil May Cry’s door whenever you were scribbling down notes on a white paper or walking around in your flat trying to memorize everything you had to know; however, work held you back, or so you liked to believe in a vain attempt to fool yourself. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you could have spared fifteen minutes of your life to take up on Dante’s advice, but you just couldn’t find an excuse to do so. Technically, you didn’t think anyone would judge you if you were to go and meet the guy who had mysteriously been occupying your mind for the past weeks, however you felt you needed an excuse to go to Devil May Cry once again, mainly because you had been there out of work only once and it was to deliver Dante a letter your boss gave and told you to. You didn’t stay much even then; ten minutes the longest, making some small talk with the white haired elder to pass some time.

 

Of course you felt weird about suddenly going to the shop just to meet the new guy. Surely, no one would judge you for taking an interest in him but that didn’t include his lady companion who came over every once in a while and had the fortune of catching you ogle the younger and Dante himself; you were willing to bet on your life and dignity that you would never hear the end of it had you done that. You could almost hear his playful voice echoing in your consciousness; he would go on for days about how you didn’t even want to be friends with him at first, how you didn’t even come over just to say hello even when you were passing by so how taken aback and charmed must you be to come crawling to this new kid? So you didn’t, still looking for an excuse to present itself on silver platter, knowing it wouldn’t as the universe never really worked in your favor; trying to get over this infatuation in the meantime.

 

During the past fourteen days, you took five days off and whenever you worked your shifts, no deliveries to the shop was made. Until on the sixteenth day, your excuse came walking in.

 

The bell hung on top of the door shook with the movement of the door opening and closing and filled the room with a pleasant sound over the soft jazz playing in the; signaling the arrival of either a customer or someone who was lost and wanted to use the restroom. The sound peaked your interest from where you were viciously scrubbing a round table to rid it of the food stains and leftovers stuck on the nylon surface of the cloth and dried there as you were surprised by the arrival of anyone given the late hour at which you were working, leaned over with both your hands planted on top of the table. Your boss turned the ‘open’ sign over and closed the bar fifteen minutes prior, and was cleaning the last of shot glasses at the bar while you cleaned the tables, having cleaned the place before, folding the tablecloths in the process. You looked up at the source, only to feel your cheeks flush and have that uncomfortable warmth embrace your frame. There stood Dante and his younger companion in all their glory, clad in red, black and blue leather and denim; a smirk complimented the former’s worn out features and the latter had his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed in what you guessed to be mild irritation.

 

His fair complexion under the dimmed red lights of the bar was highlighted beautifully, flawless in its wake. You took in the way his parted white locks curled naturally on the ends, bangs brushed to left. His bright blue eyes swept the place quickly, moving from left to right with utter precision and concentration alight within them, making you wonder briefly whether he was looking for something. You wondered whether he was subject to a complex case of obsessive compulsive disorder that made him want to observe the placing of thing, but it occurred to you later on that you saw him residing in the same place which was nothing short of dirt and disaster as Dante, and that couldn’t have been the case; you didn’t have an extreme case but even you couldn’t stand the place. His glare was unforgiving, eyes shadowed, shoulders high in defense, booted feet planted firmly on the floor. His posture reminded you that of a shoulder, ready to unleash calamity. Could he be looking for a way out of the place should a danger arise? Perhaps he was criticizing the décor of the place, and you were the paranoid one here overcomplicating things by giving subtle courses of action much heavier meanings. Your cheeks flushed further at your silliness, defined further much to your demise by the lighting of the place. You considered moving your gaze away from the younger male, however that thought was quickly dominated and eliminated by your lack of shame, and you took him in.

 

You only noticed then he had his right arm strapped, kept in a cast and sling, hand covered by a red and blue leather glove. You didn’t have a brilliant memory but you didn’t recall seeing it on him before, had he just broken his arm? The thought made your stomach churn uncomfortably, feeling the insides of your palms itch as they twitched in an attempt to reach to him and comfort him, care for him, feel for him.  The extent of that urge scared you; just how much you craved to run your hands over the cast to take away the pain, your thought to be dulled attraction to the male came back full force and hit you so hard you felt your breath knocked out from your chest. Your cold fingers curled around the cloth in your palm and you squeezed it absentmindedly, causing the water it absorbed to drip on the table.

 

“We’re closed.”

 

It was the throaty voice of your boss that knocked you out of your gaze though, making you straighten your posture at last and look in his direction. What felt like a hundred years looking and admiring a man whose name you hadn’t even been granted the access to was only a span of mere seconds, finally finding the leftovers of dignity within your core to quickly clean up the mess you made and stand straight politely. No matter the relations, customer was customer and you required to treat them with utmost respect. Glad to have been forced out of your daze, you quietly padded back and forth between the tables wiping them clean, adjusting the chairs. Your hands were hard at work; eyes and ears were on the scene unfolding before you, though.

 

“This how ya treat an old friend, a customer, Lester?”

 

Echoed Dante’s voice over the dim notes dancing, sounding offended even though it didn’t take a genius or fifteen years spent with the man to catch the apparent, ever so teasing tone of cheer behind. The glimpse of amusement he let on only resulted in his words being crushed under sarcasm that weighed tons, making you wonder whether everything was a game to the elder yet again. He seemed to be driven by something you couldn’t quite understand, having little regard for serious matters such as life and death; giving him the impression of a man who knew something no one else did and could understand. It wasn’t artificial either, you never stopped to think for once if he was a man fed up with life trying to entertain himself; he wasn’t wallowing in past and regrets. You only saw a man who looked forward, which made you want to be more like him. Then he would make a crude comment or you would catch a glimpse of guns holstered to the sides of his torso and you would want to be less like him. How you found yourself both drawn to and away from him, you would never quite understand.

 

“Only ones that stink. And boy, do you. What you got for me now, huh?”

 

Your boss placed the glass he had been wiping clean on the bar top, finally looked at Dante from behind his sunglasses. You caught the glimpse of a smirk on his lips before he turned to grab a bottle of aged Scotch from the alcoholic beverage rack, filling two glasses generously with amber liquid and ice. Addressed man took confident strides to the bar, only stopping to wink in your direction. You could never quite understand the relation between Dante and your employer but from what you could gather it was built on respect for each other and something which was none of your business apparently, because the two shared secretive smiles, raised their glasses and bumped them gently before downing the bitter liquid at once, successfully making you cringe as you imagined the burn of the drink down your throat. Dante closed his eyes and shook his head comically and you almost thought the drink had no effect on him at all. He chuckled then, looked at his companion over his shoulder and motioned for him to sit down.

 

“Make yourself at home, kiddo, we gonna be ‘ere fer a while.”

 

Subject of your infatuation scoffed at Dante and cocked his head to side before huffing and opting to drag one of the chairs you positioned perfectly so he could sit down on it, foot planted on either side with his legs wide open and his left elbow propped on the table. You weren’t sure what to make of all this and luckily for you your boss must have understood your distress and loss so he cocked his head to side, an eyebrow raised. You quickly understood gesture and wiped your wet and itchy palms on your stained waist apron and approached the sitting male with the wet cloth with which you’ve wiped the tables with in one hand, feeling something form in your throat with each step closer. He didn’t look up at you until you were right next to him, careful not to abuse his personal space when you interacted with him.

 

“Hello. We didn’t meet each other earlier.” You began, a smile brightening your youthful features. You were quite lucky that they decided to show up after over two weeks, when your finals and your distress was over with so you were able to make yourself look at least presentable today. You weren’t one for narcissism however you couldn’t deny that you looked at least somewhat cute today, for which you were grateful. You tangled your fingers on your lap as he looked you over just as you had done earlier more than once, attempting to at least subdue the flush dusting over your fair skin. “I will be serving you today, is there anything you would like, or would you prefer I brought a menu for you?”

 

Your eyes were on his face, but his quickly left yours when your gazes met. You followed his trail and settled on the man in red who had long made himself at home and was quietly discussing something with your boss. You thankfully could put out the flicker of curiosity that sparked within you before it could grow into a fire and take over your frame. Whatever they were discussing had to be important and was none of your business, you told yourself, it certainly wasn’t because of the fact that how closely your boss was involved with a man like Dante unnerved you and made you think he could be more than he made himself known to you. You quickly dismissed the thought with a shake of your head yet the seeds of doubt had been buried at the sight, you never really knew their relation stemmed to that extent. When you looked back at the male, you caught his gaze roaming over your features before he averted his eyes again, scratching his nose with his left index finger.

 

“Just water, please.”

 

That was the first time you heard his voice. You wanted to think it was heavenly and resembled no other sound you had ever heard before but you stopped yourself there, not letting your mind wander places it shouldn’t be involving his throaty grunts next to your ear or the way his lips would move on your skin as he spoke hushed words exclusive to your ears— No. sure, you weren’t too old, but you were old enough not to develop a teenage crush on a boy probably older than you were and start daydreaming about him and his hands and lips on you helplessly, in front of him of all times and places.

 

“Comin’ right up.”

 

You announced and quickly made your way over to the bar where you could pour him a glass of water to drink, mind in a million places at once, all revolving around him much to your dismay. At your approach, both your boss and Dante quieted, with the former busying himself with preparing two sets of glasses for them while the latter laid his eyes on you as you got his companion the drink he requested, making sure to snatch a napkin. Dante kept watching you with idle interest, resting his cheek in his palm, an elbow propped on the bar top, his other forearm laid on the same surface. “So…” He hummed to get your attention, you didn’t even have to look up at him to see the smile on his face. “You get along with that punk?”

 

You almost said you hoped so, but recalling who the man sitting in front of you was, you stopped yourself from uttering something you would likely regret later on and merely offered a dismissive silk of your shoulders, a smile on your face. He offered a silent chuckle at your response and his shoulders shook as you went past by him.

 

“Here’s your water.” You placed the glass you brought for him on the napkin you snatched on your way, locking your fingers in front of you once again. He had his eyes set on the scenery playing before him, his glare from earlier having softened. Silence was drowned by the music in the background, and you took your time observing his gifted features once again. “Thank you.” He said and reached for the glass with his left hand and sipped it, making you realize he didn’t actually want anything at all but only asked for water just to have something to busy himself with. Before you could change your mind and decide against it, you reached for a vacant chair and dragged it so you could sit opposite from him. He didn’t say anything but turned his head slightly towards you. You found confidence in his awkwardness, and decided to start a conversation with him, personal this time.

 

“What’s your name?” You asked with interest, genuinely wondering what to call him as ‘the somewhat relative of Dante’ didn’t quite fit with him, giving him your own name which he probably already knew if he didn’t forget as Dante had addressed you by your name earlier, and you had a name tag pinned to the side of your t-shirt. You watched as he placed the glass back on the table, hair framing the left side of his face. “Nero.”

 

Your memory immediately provided you with information on the name. Nero. Black, dark. Infamous Roman emperor known for his cruelty. Sabine origin, for ‘strong, vigorous’. A name that suited his looks and contrasted with them all at once, you mused to yourself. “Nice to meet you, Nero.” You said, and he replied with a nod of his head. He wasn’t much of a talker, you figured, which encouraged you to speak on his behalf until he decided he could trust you. Maybe he wouldn’t, but you felt more comfortable in his presence than Dante’s around whom you had to be more careful even though the both of them had the same dangerous aura to them, one that warned you.

 

Now, you could either ask him about his arrival and perhaps relation with Dante or you could ask him about what happened to his arm, both of which seemed a little personal to you, so instead you decided to follow his gaze where it landed on Dante, corner of your lips tugged up humorously as you offered. “He’s awfully quiet today, it’s unusual.” You must have taken the right course of action in starting the conversation because you earned an amused huff from the male in front of you, the view of his relaxed features and a reply. “Yeah, you don’t say. First time seein’ his mouth shut.” Glad that you have somehow managed to penetrate through the thick, palpable wall of awkwardness standing between the two of you, you chuckled at his reply. He glanced your way at the sound of your muted laughter and this time, you felt the blue orbs stay on your face.

 

“He can be quite handful at times, but he’s not so bad now, is he? You’d know better.” You watched as the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile that couldn’t fully reach his plump lips, almost as if it died on its journey down to his mouth, but you could still see the ghost of it dancing around on them. “Yeah, loud ass mouth, hellhole kinda place he’s got me cranked up in, doin’ his chores when he lays on his ass. You’re the one he doesn’t really pay, you tell me.” Nero said and shook his head gently, white locks framing his face followed the lead of his movement. Despite his words, you could see he didn’t really mean them because beneath the layers of sarcasm he offered was admiration and respect he bore for the man. You wondered how long they had been together, because their relation apparently hadn’t developed over a day, but he beat you to it much to your surprise and looked at you, pointing at the man of subject with a jerk of his head. “You know him for long?”

 

You shrugged your shoulder in response and looked at the back of Dante’s head, quietly musing how whereas his white locks made him look older than he actually was, the same didn’t quite apply to Nero although the both resembled each other more than friends would. “Since I’ve started working for boss man. So, say, about five months?” When you looked at him, you were almost surprised to find his gaze still fixed on you. So, you had somehow managed to interest him at last? That was neither as bad as you feared nor went as terribly as you thought it would; Nero was just slightly socially awkward in face of strangers, you thought. “I don’t know him that well, though. I’m his ‘pizza friend’, just he doesn’t pay me. But boss and Dante seem close.” You offered, finding yourself peeking back at the conversing duo once again, this time with your eyebrows furrowed in an unconscious manner. “I mean, I was surprised to see boss would let him off the hook for not paying for one, but I’ve never thought they would be close enough to sit down and share a drink. I’ve never seen them do that before, at least.”

 

As you turned your attention back on him, you realized the way Nero’s eyes lit up in something akin to recognition and realization, a gesture which definitely wasn’t meant for you but revolved around you, making you raise an eyebrow in question. “What?” You ended up blurting, flushing a deep bright red at your crudeness. He dismissed your act with a wave of his hand and scratched his nose, averting his gaze from you. “I mean, uh, what’s the matter?” Nero shook his head again, the traces of smile disappeared briefly before being replaced by ones more visible this time.

 

“Nothing.” He said and you could almost hear a playful secretiveness behind his words which you took as a sign he was getting more comfortable being around you by minute. You ended up scoffing at him, from which he turned his head away and snorted before meeting your scolding gaze with a smile playing at his lips. You noted how one brightened up his features more than you guessed it would, and found yourself dumbfounded with your breath caught in your throat and the lump in your throat in his vicinity once again. Just as your lips parted to reply, Dante’s voice resonated, making the both of you look at him.

 

“C’mon, kiddo. We’re leavin’.”

 

Nero shot him a glare that told him to shut up almost instantly at him but stood up anyway, repositioning the chair whose position he disturbed to sit earlier. You followed in suit and got up as well. He was about to walk away from you and you knew all this would be in vain the second he walked away from you, guessing time spent apart would build the wall of awkwardness once again. It was instinctive when you reached for his left arm and tugged on the denim coat and it took both of you by surprise. Nero’s halted in his steps and he looked at you over his shoulder and you quickly closed your gaping mouth shut, looking at him hopefully.

 

“You should drop by sometime. You’re new in town, right? I’ll— I can help you.”

 

You response came a few seconds late, he faced away from you again and you met the playful eyes of Dante from across the room instead.

 

“Yeah, I might.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You finally get the name of our shy boy.


	4. a white page;

_“Nero… So you… You really are leaving, aren’t you?”_

_Her voice, as broken as her heart and soul was at his declaration, pierced through his ugly core and left him bleeding deep down where he couldn’t quite reach; shattered pieces of what his heart used to be in her care heavy in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to kick and trash everything, he wanted to hate himself for causing her this pain, this agony she never deserved but had always been subjected to due to the selfish feelings he bore for her. She lost his brother because of him, she saw him fight and defeat his brother, with his sword at his neck, ready to claim his soul. He not only stabbed her in the back by fighting her brother but he let that piece of shit take her, imprison her, use her just to get him, hurt her, torment her. It was because of him that the city they grew up in, the city and its people she loved so dearly was left in ashes and painted red. He wanted to direct all of it at himself, and revenge her pain by eliminating the source of it all. Yet he couldn’t. He knew that after everything that unfolded before his eyes, everything that he found out, he wouldn’t._

_Ever since that accident in the forest, his arm changed, the monster he knew to have existed within him all along surfaced, broke through his skin and his bones to represent itself. He despised it, the leather like texture, claws where his nails used to be, skin layered in odd colors and unbroken. Every time he closed his eyes, a voice echoed deep within his consciousness, dragged him into the pits of hell and hell; a fallen man once of glory and gore now at the feet of hell, chanted in his ears, tempted him, controlled him. ‘Power…’ He echoed, voice broken, inhuman as he demanded in his ears, his fingers tight around his neck preventing him from breathing properly. ‘Give me more… power.’_

_Every day he closed his eyes to the same demands and opened his eyes to emptiness; he trained harder, the more demons he killed the stronger, the louder, the clearer the voice got. Power. Power. His arm itched where it changed on his right shoulder and aroused an unquenchable need within him to cut where his human met his monster, break the cells, tear it and leave it all behind him. The family he grew up in, people for whom he owed his life and was grateful for; a caring girl who blossomed into a fine woman and her mighty brother. It was the brother that found out his secret and covered for him when he first changed and freaked out, not knowing what action to take next. Credo used his status as the captain of the Holy Knights serving for the church and the Savior Sparda and flexed the rules for him not to be found out. It had scarcely been a week when the man in red crashed through the roof and put a bullet through Your Highness’ head, revealing to him that neither himself nor he could be defined ‘humans’, nor could the empty armors of the sword as he realized later on. All that had unfolded before his eyes, the day he could finally use his arm to destroy the source of evil that had been manipulating ignorant souls for so long; he felt free._

_He hadn’t realized he closed his eyes to avoid looking at her teary features and furrowed his brows so deeply until her face became clear to his sight once again and he felt his forehead ache. The woman he had the fortune of looking at— she wasn’t just anyone. Before him, stood the love of his life dressed up in white as most to represent the angel she was that didn’t belong in here, in this rotten town— interacting with a goddamned demon like himself. She was everything he wasn’t in every possible aspect; everything he ever wished he could be yet would never taint; pure, untouched, innocent, caring, loving, faithful… She was the woman who taught him how to love, care, the woman he loved, the woman he’d take a bullet for anytime she asked. The way she looked at him broke his heart, even after everything that he’s done and caused to her, her family and this city, she looked at him with so much love that it warmed his ice cold hands, made him want to reach out and touch her to get more of that warmth, to make sure it was all real and not a wicked play of his wild imagination._

_“Kyrie…” Her name on his tongue, in his mouth, had never felt so bitter before. The very moment she looked at him the way she did, he was undeserving of calling out to her, he was undeserving of uttering the syllables that formed her gracious name. “I…” he began, and he felt his throat constrict with everything he wanted to say but never could uncomfortably, wrapping around his throat and lungs like the unforgiving hands of the man in blue haunting his very being, choking him, preventing him from breathing. “I have to…” He managed to exhale at last, form the simplest form of words, still unable to look at the angel before him. His icy blue orbs were glued on the broken pavement of the ground, reminding him of the day they brought this city down, of the day the demon in him was born. Out of the corner of his sight, he could see his exposed right arm, the arm he thought for so long didn’t belong to him, the arm that made him hate God for making him like this; deranged, broken, oh so ugly. He flexed his right fingers and clenched them to a fist, the texture of his own skin foreign in his own touch after so long. “I have to go… I’m not—” I’m not a human anymore. I don’t deserve to be here anymore. I don’t want to do that anymore._

_“I know.” She offered to graciously it warmed his broken heart again, only to leave it frozen cold in the middle of a blizzard that broke out when he decided he would leave, this city, her. When he raised his head to look at her in an astonishing combination of awe and admiration, he saw the way the corners of her lips quirked up in and blessed him with a gentle smile, honey caramel orbs seeking his. When they met, he felt his heart skip a beat like it would every time she would look at him and touch him and run her delicate fingers through his unnaturally white locks. Her small hands reached for his calloused ones; both human and demon, and cradled them in hers gently, her soft skin within his hold. “I know, Nero.” Her fingers curled around his and entangled with his, and he could swear she reached to mend his heart with her hold. How could she possibly know, how could she even sympathize with him after all that he’s caused, he thought, but swallowed his words for fear that they would destroy this moment of purity they shared, for one last time she opened her heart to him, and he to her._

_“You have to do what you want to do.” Her hands gave his an encouraging squeeze, and the look on her face brightened considerably even though her eyes were still wet and shiny with the unshed tears at his unforeseen declaration of departure. He watched in fascination as the wind caressed their faces and tickled the ends of her hair, leaving the amber locks tousled slightly. “If you feel like you have to go… to find out who you really are, do it. You will regret it all your life if you don’t, and it’s a life neither you nor I would want you to go through, Nero. But you’re wrong about one thing. Nothing’s changed, about you, about us.” She paused for a moment and averted her gaze from his almost shamefully, before looking back up at him, eyes blazing with sadness and sorrow this time and it made him want to reach out and comfort her, say her that none of it was her fault, could never be, but she beat him to it. “My only regret is that I never realized it sooner, Nero. The pain you’ve been through, the loneliness you had to endure, the confusion you experienced… I’m really glad that Credo was there for you, but I wish… I just wish that I could have been there for you, too, as I should have.”_

_“Kyrie, no…” He called out to her helplessly, hands desperately wanting to reach out to her but not yet daring to leave her welcoming touch. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that she helped him in ways no one could and had ever tried to before, that she helped him wake up every day with resolve sharpened to protect her, that she encouraged him to do better just to defend her and that he only fought to cleanse this world of those rotten creatures just so she could dream of a happy world, that she made him want to be a better person that’s capable of creation as much as destruction. Much to his helpless fascination when the words he wanted to share with her tangled and got stuck in his throat, she spoke for him. “It’s alright, Nero. I know. You don’t have to tell me anything that I already know.”_

_As silence hung palpable in the air, he made an attempt to carve her flawless features into his consciousness so whenever he closed his eyes, he would find her looking back at him with a smile on her face, reminding him of the times they spent together. “I’m grateful for every single thing you’ve done for me, from defending me to saving me. I’ll treasure those memories and carry them with me forever.” She confessed, pink dusted cheeks illuminated by the rays of sunlight shining on her fair complexion. The corner of his lips tugged up briefly. “Yeah, Kyrie. Me too.”_

_“It… felt odd, didn’t it? Past month… Everything that happened.” She spoke, making him look at her honey caramel eyes. Something alight beneath them told him that she wasn’t really referring to the revelation this city experienced; how the Lord Savior they happened to worship had been playing them all along, a man dressed in white shamelessly posing as a God for his selfish desires if not for anything else. She was talking about them, their family. He looked down at their combined hands, relating to her confession. It felt odd, being able to stand next to her, hand in hand with her. For so long, he dreamed of her, dreamed of providing her with a future she deserved even if it meant his own demise. For so long he wanted to touch her, brush her stray locks away from her face, kiss her. But now that she accepted him truly for what he really was, he found he had never really desired to do so. To him, she was family. A precious memory he didn’t want to taint. A lot of times, both of them had the chance to press the other closer and lock lips, but something flaming within the both of them kept them from doing so. He only thought he was the only one, he thought he didn’t have the right to break her heart after all this; but to hear they were mutual…_

_He found himself chuckling lowly, his broad shoulders shaking with silent laughter that blossomed into that of a hearty one, remnants of his display plastered on his lips in form of a wide grin. “Yeah, yeah it did.” He offered, and both of them made a move to untangle their fingers, instead reaching for each other to wrap their arms around one another in a warm embrace, accepting each other for what they were. Nero closed his eyes and pressed his nose into her amber locks, her smell intoxicating him standing. He felt her hands through layers of denim and leather drawing small circles on his back in an attempt to comfort him and ease him of his pain, and he found himself repeating the gesture, palms patting her back gently._

_When he took a step back, so did she, her fingers tangled behind her back coyly. “I’m glad I never got that kiss from you, Nero.” She offered healthily with a smile gracing her flawless features, and he founds his spirits lifted thanks to her gesture. “I really am, so you can give it to the person you really want to. I hope you meet them, Nero. And when you do, come back here for a visit. Because whatever you find there, you will always have a family here. You’ll come back to a changed city, too, I promise I’ll do my best help make this place a better one.”_

_“And I’ll come back stronger, I promise you, Kyrie.”_

He opened his blue eyes to the darkness of the room Dante told he could reside in during his indefinite stay here, gaze roaming aimlessly, still captivated by his dream. The only piece of family he knew to exist and have left back in his hometown; Fortuna Island. Dressed in untainted white and stood before him in all her glory; he felt his chest grow warmer, glad to have left after having cleared up everything and leaving no tables unturned. It was hard to believe it had been over three weeks since his arrival already. He had even helped Dante complete one of the jobs he took when he got a call from a customer with the password two weeks ago, resulting in their hasty departure to another city where they eliminated and slayed evil of their own kind. They managed to save a city full of people, and even though Dante came back a broke man due to the damages they had caused during the course of their battles, it was the feeling of lightness that made him go on doing whatever he did for a living, he realized at last. The feel of helping people. It was unexpectedly warm in his chest, blossoming complexly. He had never quite felt anything for the sort.

 

When they got the job done and arrived back in the city, Dante claimed that they needed to be somewhere first before going to Devil May Cry to get some well-deserved rest, claiming he might like to put his right arm up in its cast for that case. Reluctant as he was as he didn’t want to get caught up in Dante’s bad habits and group of friends, he agreed to tag along as he was promised he needn’t mingle with the business he had to take care of. On their way to the place Dante claimed to be a hideout for hunters like him, he enlightened Nero on the details of the job they have taken, which had been given to them by the owner of the hideout who would provide Dante with work to get done. Nero briefly wondered then whether the owner was of their kind, and Dante must have seen the doubt flicker on his features because he left Nero with a secretive smile and provided him with no answers, telling him it would be no fun if he figured out nothing by himself at all. He scoffed at that and followed him in dilatory steps to the shop; and was taken aback by the name of it.

 

_Bull’s Eye Bar and Pizzeria_

That sounded familiar. When Dante made himself welcome in the shop as if he owned the place despite the ‘closed’ sign turned over on the glass door and he followed in suit, he immediately recognized why he thought the name sounded so familiar. Blue orbs sought out the person cleaning the tables, piecing the pieces to completion to realize that she was the girl from before who made the pizza delivery to the shop. He felt her eyes on him then, and acted quickly in an attempt to conceal his right arm from the incomer. He must have succeeded in doing so because she carried on her conversation with Dante, making him wonder whether she had any relations to the male other than delivering his food for free, apparently. With clearer understanding of the moment, his eyes scanned the place quickly for anything unusual that hinted to its otherworldly involvement, but he found nothing of the sort. He could feel her gaze on him once again, and with the revelation, it had gotten unnerving. Was she a hunter like Dante and him, too? Was she a human or a demon? Something in him whispered him that he was on the wrong track, however, he would need to be careful around her. The animal’s instincts within him never failed him up until now, so he decided to take his advice.

 

When Dante exchanged words with the owner and moved to the bar, he took his advice and moved to one of the tables where he pulled a chair so he could sit on it. The man Dante was talking to moved his head in his direction and even though for a brief second he believed it was meant for him, when the girl quickly wrapped up whatever she was doing and followed him he quickly understood it was meant for her instead. He gathered it must have been to take his order because she came over with a smile on her features, one that was rather professional. He noted the way her cheeks were dusted pink under the lighting of the room, and as jazz played I the background, noted it wasn’t due to exhaustion as she didn’t seem to have engaged in prior physical exercise that would leave her exhausted and sweating; his enhanced nostrils would have caught the odor of that, it didn’t seem to be unnatural either. Before he could solve the mystery, she quickly introduced herself and asked if he would like anything. Very professional, however as he didn’t want to stay here longer than necessary, he merely asked for a glass of water, with which he was provided soon enough.

 

Much to his surprise though, the girl made himself comfortable across from him and attempted at small talk, which she was successful at given how it didn’t make him uncomfortable or put him off. Although he was surprised by the way she didn’t ask about his relation with Dante or even about his casted arm as she must have observed it hadn’t been there before, he didn’t push his luck an engaged in conversation, finding it rather enjoyable as it revolved around his white haired companion and his flaws.

 

Having been given the chance to observe her up close, he noted the way she kept her locks up in a ponytail away from her face, which defined her flawless complexion and features. Under the reddish lighting, a flush ran down her cheeks to her neck, and he found himself wondering how far her skin was dusted with the taunting red before he could prevent his thought from taking that turn. Quite ashamed of himself for even thinking impurely of her, he averted his gaze from hers quickly, scratching his nose uncomfortably; a notion he seemed to have developed sometime whenever he was embarrassed or nervous. It wasn’t until much later that did he realize that you actually had no idea who Dante was, rather, what Dante was as you naively mused your surprise at Dante’s and your boss’ relation, granting him with the knowledge that you had no sort of relation to their kind. He found himself oddly relieved by the realization that there was nothing more than a professional relationship between you and Dante, as odd as he thought it was to feel that way.

 

Just as they were about to leave, Nero felt himself stopped by her gentle grip on his exposed arm and she offered that he should come over sometime so she could show him around the city. He turned his head forward more to mask the pink dusting his cheeks at her offer than to dismiss her and replied he might.

 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes once again, right arm now rid of its casting as he laid on his bed and rested both his open palms under his head. He felt oddly drawn to her, all he knew about her was her name and that she wasn’t a demon, which could raise problems if he wasn’t careful from now on because he had the arm of a demon and was one himself. So much could go wrong in this scenario, she could find out what he really was and run away from him, scream and cry for help, she could hate him and never want to see his face again, she could be traumatized for the rest of her life upon her discovery and it would all be his fault. Even if she managed to accept what he was should she find out, he could harm her, hurt her, put her in danger’s way, result in her death or even worse. His eyebrows furrowed in anger at the possibilities his mind managed to formulate in a span of seconds.

 

He found he genuinely wanted to take her up on her offer. What could go wrong? He really needed to form new dare he say friendships with people other than the old man downstairs or he could go bald one of these days. He seemed to be quite eager for him to bond with that girl for some reason, too, having constantly been teasing him about her ever since she came over for the first time and even referred to her as his ‘girlfriend’ couple of times. He heaved a deep sigh and over, stuffing the pillow under his arms, fully intent on closing his eyes to sleep.

 

What were the odds?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revelations. Written in Nero's perspective.


	5. closer;

_What were the odds?_

 

You didn’t see Nero for five days since your first encounter at the bar when he and Dante crashed for a while given the said man didn’t order any pizzas that required your delivery either. If you were being honest with yourself which was something you found yourself doing a lot more than usual as of recent, you were quite disappointed that Nero hadn’t come despite saying that he might, after all, confide in you. You didn’t even know why you were so disappointed; did you really want him to come back in seconds after he left and sweep you off your feet and run off to the sunset? You didn’t want to answer to that. The fact that you were so attracted to him against all the odds, perhaps not as dramatically, was something you managed to accept and come to terms with at last after they left and you closed the bar with your boss, having been haunted by his icy blue orbs all night. Despite your lack of sleep due to the man occupying your mind last night, you woke up feeling rather energetic as you were moved by the possibility of his coming over and spending more time with him and you even bothered to put extra effort in your attire rather than simply pulling your loose locks into a ponytail. Much to your disappointment, the days went by painstakingly slow waiting for Nero to happen, only for him not to.

 

After the uneventful, Nero-less second day and third day and fourth day in a row, you were genuinely discouraged, was it asking too much of him too soon? You had never been god at relationships much less initiate them; never had you ever confessed your feelings to someone you liked or had been done so by others, left in the dark. Wait, who said anything about relationships or confessing! When you stopped to think it through you realized that it probably was asking too much of him in such a short span of time indeed, especially considering his reluctance last time, your spirits lifted if only a little and you decided you would keep appearing at work with your appearance improved; the change was subtle but added a lot more to your features, on which your boss commented on almost teasingly much to your surprise and demise, leaving your face a flushing mess under the ever-knowing looks you knew he had behind his shades. Well, you could say you had been looking for an excuse to do your best at all times.

 

On the afternoon of the fifth day of your anticipation, the door opened and he walked in. You had half a mind to grin and break into a contagious laughter of happiness and do a dance of victory right then and there, however your common sense protested and luckily for you prevented you from doing something so scandalous within his presence that you would regret it for the rest of your life. He looked better than ever, you noted, having ditched his trademark blue denim coat for a vintage caramel brown leather jacket that defined his arms, both the perfectly fine left and the injured right one whose sling he removed but as it still had its casting he carefully cradled it to his chest, broad shoulders and built torso perfectly. He left the jacket unzipped and wore it over a blue denim shirt which he left unbuttoned to reveal the black undershirt he was wearing underneath that hugged his torso. He completed his look with a pair of dry ecru embo thin finn jeans and black retro punk combat boots. Seeing him in a more casual attire instead of his rather extravagant outfit baffled you, however you would be damned to claim that it looked any less good on him. If anything the contrast of colors and their perfect harmony defined his snowy white locks and his icy blue orbs that you admired so dearly.

 

Now that you were once again within the same vicinity as him, you had never felt more relieved to have showered after you woke up and brushed your hair down today. Would he stay for long? Would you be able to engage in a lighthearted conversation again? Would your boss scold you for wanting to spend more time with him even if there was only one customer drinking away in broad day light? There was only one way to find out, you figured you wouldn’t be able to contain your excitement and glee for any longer were you to keep standing still. So like the good host you were, you greeted him with a broad and contagious smile that was admittedly infected by his arrival and waved at him, to which he replied with a faint smile, his eyes set on your frame. Before you could walk up to him and tell him to take a seat and make himself comfortable, your boss beat you to it.

 

“Hey, Nero. You made it.” Your boss declared and raised a full whiskey glass in his way before beckoning him over to the bar. His voice alerted Nero and got his attention, his eyes left yours so lay on your boss’ black sunglasses and he did as he was asked. You followed Nero blindly when your boss looked in your direction for a brief moment, realizing that he wanted you over too and also the fact that Nero only came over because your boss asked him to do so. While you were slightly discouraged by the turn of events, you weren’t going to complain about them since even if he didn’t come to see you like you thought he had, you still could start a conversation and spend some time together. “Yeah, old man said y’needed help with somethin’.” Replied Nero and looked at you briefly now that you were also standing in front of the bar next to him, and when your boss nodded his head, his attention was back on the elderly male who called him over. “Yeah kinda do.” Your boss placed the whiskey he had prepared and raised in Nero’s honors earlier in front of the hammered customer, only customer present in the place, the cling of the ice meeting the glass made the intoxicated man lift his head from where he laid it on the wooden surface drunkenly. As if to show his gratitude for the drink, he waved two fingers in your boss’ general direction. You could smell him from across the bar, and you couldn’t help making a face at that, which gained you a chuckle from your boss.

 

“See, I was gonna see off my gorgeous here to get me some bottles of booze…” Your boss began, and pointed at you as he said the word ‘gorgeous’, making your fair complexion dust with faint pink at the compliment, “…but the old fart Gennaro’s outta town and know how she don’t like cycling all the way to Anaon from here. Your old man owes me one, so take her there and bring her back safe and sound.” You had flushed down to your neck by the time he was done. Did he seriously call Nero so he could take you to Anaon?! You had done that before; sure you might have hated the man your boss had signed a contract with and sure it was pretty much on the other side of the town and by the time you got back, the sun would be set and your legs would be aching helplessly and every once in a while you would be chased on your way by some freaky crack-addict or a thief, but those factors didn’t mean that you hadn’t done it because and could do it again! Unless of course your boss had already caught on and set you up, but that didn’t sound like him at all. He could be a playful man every once in blue moon but he wouldn’t engage in your personal affairs and problems. “Don’t wanna have to go looking for a new employee, yeah?”

 

You looked up at Nero only to see the way his features had hardened, his brows here furrowed in concentration and blue orbs alight with something akin to disgust. That look, you thought, was something you would shoot your enemy, not your friends and business partners no matter how much you disliked them. You watched the way Nero’s jaw clenched and the way he flexed the fingers of his left hand carefully before nodding stiffly. Did he find it too much of a drag? You might have gotten irritated too, if you were called suddenly and asked to help someone do their chores. You averted your gaze from his and set it on the wood before you, hands tangled in your lap and a frown when you heard Nero speak. “So the reports on the news… ‘s the middle o’the day, y’think they’ll?” Nero trailed off and you felt his gaze flicker to yours, no matter how brief, its intensity sent a shiver down your spine and left you concerned despite yourself. “Look, kiddo.” Your boss began and leaned on the bar on both his forearms, pointing an index finger at Nero’s face accusingly. It’s when he started speaking that you realized they were talking in a different tongue, and you couldn’t understand a thing; you weren’t meant to, it was a secret of theirs that you weren’t allowed in, for which you weren’t sure whether you were grateful or irritated. “Some places on earth are closer to some other places you don’t wanna be.” Especially if you’re a helpless, defenseless college girl? “Where you come from. A good example, yeah? I don’t wanna take any chances here, not now all times. So take my girl there and bring her back in one piece, then you two can sit down and have a nice meal on the house.”

 

What was the underlying meaning to your boss’ words? He let you go there by yourself without any form of complaints before, just a warning to be careful every so often maybe. What had changed? Nero mentioned the reports on the news; the recent slaughters that took place in… Anaon? It had always been a rather shady place to be in all alone if you were ignorant and defenseless, but recently the news were flashing with the censored footage of dismembered limbs and red painted walls. Quite a few people had been slaughtered mercilessly and yet they never gave any names, any places. But your boss was shady enough as he is, he must have had connections, not to mention the merchant that provided him with aged and expensive wine was supposedly his long old friend. If he was concerned about your wellbeing, enough to be willing to send you with Nero, that meant he must have known something. Could it be that there was a serial killer on the loose in Anaon of all places? Nero must have been convinced enough to escort you to Anaon because he looked at you expectantly when your own orbs brightened in realization, though you noted the way his look had softened in comparison to the prior one. You quickly nodded your head and held a hand up, frantic, noting to ask about the details on the way to Anaon. “Ah, okay, wait. Give me a second, okay? I’ll get ready!”

 

You were back with your work attire cast in favor of your casual attire that consisted of a white shirt whose sleeves you rolled up to your elbows and a pair of skinny navy blue jeans in less than two minutes as you really hated making people wait for you, since you hated waiting for other people, you didn’t have the right to subject them to the same treatment. You saw Nero had abandoned his position and was leaning against the wall next to the entrance with his left hand stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, the intoxicated man still salivating on the wood with no regard for hygiene or the people who would have to clean it later; you. You couldn’t help making a face at the thought again as you approached your boss who handed you the cash you would need to get the job done. You took the envelope he presented it to you in, eyes roaming on the hand-written letters forming the wine merchant’s name; Ollie. Your eyebrows furrowed, and your feet refused to move. “Boss man, the news about a serial killer— Nero said news, I mean, is… did that… did all of that happen in Anaon?” You questioned, your voice rather shaky. Your body had realized the danger before your mind could and had started releasing adrenaline, making the tips of your fingers and your nose go cold in anxiety. You pursed your lips and furrowed your brows, lower lip caught between your upper teeth. Your expression only softened when you felt your boss’ hand on your shoulder, squeezing in a manner that was meant to comfort you, which worked and you slowly released your lip from between your teeth and relaxed your muscles under his touch. “Wouldn’t send you there if I could since his place is in the middle of the neighborhood. Gotta keep the place runnin’ and you’re the only one helpin’ me out here who knows what I need you to know.”

 

He let the words sink in, confirming your suspicious indirectly. “Doncha worry your pretty face, that kid’s got some tricks up his sleeve.” Your boss offered and left you wondering. “You mean like karate or something?” You questioned naively, your head tilted to side in confusion to which your boss chuckled huskily and patted your shoulder a few times. “Yeah, more the ‘somethin’’ part of that. Trust him.” You nodded your head. You trusted him already. Why? Regarding relations with other people, you were usually the pessimistic one, believing everyone only sought each other for their own needs. But you trusted Nero. Like the way you trusted your boss and… Dante? Did you trust Dante at all? During the five seconds of silence you stood, you realized that you did, after all. Upon your silent admission something within you chided and shook its head in disappointment, scolding you for ignoring your blatant instincts that said they were all kinds of dangerous and all layers of trouble and choosing to have faith in them against your better judgment. Almost feeling irritated by your own thoughts as you didn’t quite want to believe the possibility of their being correct, you quickly rushed to Nero’s side and looked up at him with an artificial smile, challenging your own mind and scolding at your own silliness. “Let’s go.”

 

“Yeah.” Nero pushed the door open with his left hand and moved aside for you to get out first, which you did, and he followed in suit. You wondered how you would get to Anaon. You had your bike, you could cycle there but you didn’t have one that Nero could use. You didn’t have a car even though you knew how to drive one, so you would have to either take the metro or a bus from here. Devil May Cry from here wasn’t so far, but it wasn’t necessarily close either, which made you wonder how Nero got here in the first place. You were about to voice your inquiry on the matter until you saw Nero walk towards a vintage looking motorcycle as if he owned it. He owned it! Your lips remained parted in surprise as he looked at you expectantly, making you hold your hands up and shake your head defensively. “I—I can’t, Nero— It’s, um, I— How—how do you even ride one— your arm— injuries?” The more you blabbered nonsense, the darker you flushed under the sun shining above you. You might have been extremely rude, accusing him of being inadequate especially when he came here unharmed on the same vehicle apparently and considering you were thinking about how you trusted him only seconds ago, but you had never been on a motorcycle before, and it terrified you! How many people died of careless accidents every consecutive year?! Not to mention Nero had already injured his arm, which occurred to you then, what if he had an accident riding that and that was the reason why he had it in a cast?!

 

“Relax, I’ve got good balance. And this, uh, ‘s no big deal. I just… fell off the stairs ‘nd broke my arm, y’know?” Nero attempted to reassure you, but you could feel the color drain from your face in terror and sweat run down your back, making your white shirt slick with it. “Hey, hey…” Nero waved his left hand in front of your face to get your attention and snapped you out of your wild ride of terrors and fears, making you look up at him. He looked worried, must have been because of the face you were making. Your fingers had gone ice cold in fear, and you quickly stuffed the envelope your boss gave you in the front pocket of your jeans before reaching up to cup your unnaturally warm cheeks with your ice cold hands, hoping to calm yourself and subdue the fear and heat on your face. Nero gently placed a hand on your right shoulder and squeezed firmly, looking down at you with reassurance in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I got you. If y’had an accident before or somethin’, we could probably—” You shook your head quickly and offered a nervous laughter at him, attempting to wave him off. “No, no— I’ve never— It’s just that my mom used to be really scared of them and kinda passed that down to me, not to mention they look, uh… Quite deadly as it is. It’s just— I’ve never…” The flush returned to your face full force if it had ever left, making you bow your head. There you were, making an ass of yourself and revealing your terrors and fears to your crush and it was only the second time you were talking to him. You became aware of his firm and comforting grip on your shoulder more, which trailed down to your arm and his fingers curled around your bicep firmly, yet gently.

 

“’S not that scary, yeah? Give it a try, we’ll ditch it if y’keep shakin’ like a leaf, how’s that sound?” Terrible, absolutely terrible. “Good! Very well, everything’s okay. I’ll— I’ll try.” Nero didn’t reply and searched your eyes for ounces of hesitation and regret for a while. He must have been content with your determination shining through the cracks of your fears because he nodded and leaded you to the vehicle and handed you a helmet since you seemed terrified enough to interact with the motorcycle, helping you get and settle on it safely, guiding your feet and hands. “Good?” You nodded your head in response and he followed in suit and sat in front of you. The second you felt the engine start, your arms wrapped around his middle tightly and you pressed your face into his broad back, holding your breath. Soon, Nero’s feet were off the ground and on the vehicle, riding it to your location; Anaon.

 

As Nero rode, you felt the soft spring winds tickle your hair and your skin, tousling whatever hair you didn’t have cramped under the helmet and cooling the temperature of your body down. Your grip around Nero was tight, you wrapped your arms around him and secured your hold by holding onto your own wrist tightly, almost to the point of bruising it as your fingernails scratched your skin in nervousness. With your face pressed into his back, you couldn’t see the buildings, cars, scenery whizzing past. Your heart was beating so fast that you felt it would shatter your ribs and break free of your chest if it kept on with its pace, give you a heart attack and result in your death in Nero’s arms. When you realized how close the two of you really were, your brain almost short-circuited and you feared for a second you would have to live the rest of your life as a vegetable because of him. Thankfully, that didn’t happen and you managed to calm your racing heart for a brief second, however this time you were drowned by his manly odor and his perfume as it met your nostrils, urged on by the wind. The wind. You wanted to look up and see the way it caressed his white locks and disturbed them, then you wanted to run your fingers through it and soothe it back in their shape. While one of your hands curled tighter around your own wrist, the other had a firm grasp of his leather jacket for fear that wind would brush you off like a tiny piece of dust. On the contrary, it almost felt as if you hadn’t moved at all, the only indication of your increasing velocity was the wind hitting your hair and skin, and the rumbling of the engine beneath you. Just as he claimed, Nero had perfect control of the bike and a quite impressive balance despite his injured arm, which made you wonder how in the world he could even control this bike with only one hand as doing it with both hands seemed horrifying enough to you. Truly admirable.

 

You didn’t know how much time had passed ever since you took off with your head pressed against his chest through the helmet, but sometime later Nero halted to a stop and you felt the engine slow beneath you, and you dared to peek up, realizing he had one of his foot planted on the ground. You arrived. Already? The distance was covered much quicker when riding, coming here cycling would take you at least forty five minutes, with the ride back even more painful due to the effort of carrying all the bottles back. “That wasn’t…” You began but realized how muffled your voice sounded over the helmet and made an attempt to remove it one hand, the other still holding Nero’s jacket carefully. It took you some time and you saw Nero peeking at you over his shoulder with amusement sparkling in his blue orbs, but you managed to get it done at last. “That wasn’t so bad.” You offered, and only after you moved your feet to the ground as well did you dare let go of Nero’s jacket and stand up. Finally freed from your deathly grip you had on him, he followed in suit and secured the bike on its stand. Nero did the same and looked at you with the ghost of a smile on his lips as you moved your hair back in place and attempted to get odd the bike rather clumsily. Nero came to your rescue and held his hand out for you to take, which you did so gratefully once your fingers curled around his hand, noticing the two rings he wore on his index and ring fingers only when you felt the material in your own hand. “Told ya.” Now that you had your hand in his, you didn’t want to let go.

 

Nero decided for you and pulled his hand away politely once he made sure you indeed had your footing, averted his gaze from your and scratched his nose. You did so, embarrassed, and looked at the building in front of you. Ollie’s Winery. Slightly puzzled he didn’t need your directions, you looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “How’d you know where it is? I thought you were new in town.” Nero’s hand shifted to the back of his head after he swiped his nose with his thumb and fell back to his side limply with a shrug, alternating his weight on each leg. “Old man Lester gave me the address when y’were getting’ ready.” You briefly wondered whether he was telling the truth at all since he behaved like a kid trying to cover up a lie he told, but there couldn’t have been any other way for him to know the address; he was new in town after all, and perhaps your boss knew that he would come over with his bike and given your fear, you would be rendered useless. “Right.” You nodded and checked your pockets for the envelope, taking it out once you were in the shop, the ringing of the bell notifying Ollie of your arrival. Nero followed you but made sure to stay a few steps back, and you noted how his shoulders were once again stiff, both his arms on his sides despite the injury. He seemed to be scanning his surroundings, and you wondered whether he did that every time he was to a new location. Then again, your boss asked him to take care of you and make sure you survived in this shady neighborhood.

 

“Lester again?” Ollie inquired, as he came in slowly as having difficulty walking towards you; he supported himself with a hand on the small of his hunched back and a walking stick in the other on which he leaned most of his weight. He had long ago lost the top part of his hair and nearly all his teeth except for one which teased you by poking out from the bottom left corner. He looked just about ready to surrender his life to the angel of death, but his impressive old age might have been due to the fact that he scared them away. “Yes, sir.” You politely replied and held the envelope your boss gave you out to him, which he snatched from your hold. Once he had it, he turned away from the both of you and began counting its contents quietly, silence palpable in the air. Nero had come to stand next to you in the meantime, and you touch see him glaring daggers at the old man from the corner of your eye, apparently as irritated by his behavior as you were, however just not as used to it.

 

Ollie snorted once he was done counting the banknotes and started walking into the depths of his cave-like shop carved out of stone. He only stopped to look at the two of you when he realized you weren’t following him as he expected you to. “What in the world are you waiting for? You stupid girl, always the same. Come!” When Nero took a hasty step before you did, you held your hand out to him and motioned him not to do anything, having sensed his irritation earlier. Nero looked at you questioningly, almost as if he were offended by your gesture but you simply shook your head and quietly offered before you followed Ollie into his shop. “Please wait here, okay?”

 

With each step, Ollie pointed at the wines of Lester’s choice, telling you could take four of each. Luckily for you, you knew the man well enough to make yourself at home and take a few paper bags from around the corner in which you could place the bottles of wine without damaging them or breaking them, cradling them to your chest. You ended up with four bags on each arm, with two bottles in each. When you walked out of the cave-like part of the old stone shop into the entrance area, you found Nero standing exactly where you left him with a frown marring his flawless features that softened once he saw the bags in your hand and the lack of a certain old man.

 

“Here, lemme help.” Nero offered and even when you shook your head and said that you could handle it and that he shouldn’t be putting any pressure on his arms with one of them injured anyway, he took half the bags from your arms effortlessly and then some more, amazing you with just how much he could carry at once, making you realize all that muscles he built up weren’t just for show. Once you two have left the winery, Nero scoffed openly and looked back at the door with his lips pursed in irritation. “What the hell was wrong with that old fart? This even worth comin’ ‘ere?” You shook your head dismissively, lips curling up in a small smile. “He’s just a grumpy old man waiting for death to come get him. He can be crude but as far as I know he’s harmless and he makes brilliant wine, or so I’ve heard. I just hope he doesn’t get caught up in all this mess going on in this area, though.”

 

As Nero positioned the bags carefully so that during the ride back home the bottles wouldn’t take any damage as he looked at you with a raised eyebrow before turning his gaze back on the shop’s door with a scoff. “Hah, pretty sure he’s gonna make it.” You handed Nero the bags you were holding and as he was carefully placing them, you inquired, your thumbs hooked through your belt loops, a smile on your face. “So, I heard you do karate, Nero. Is that the reason why you escorted me here?” The look of confusion on Nero’s face was priceless. “Who told ya that?” Your secretive smile was enough of an answer and he shook his head at you antics, handing you the helmet back. “I mean, I think it’s so cool. I can’t do any of that, maybe you will teach me how to karate chop someone?” You humored Nero as you put the helmet on, though he didn’t reply to you, nor did he look at you. You realized he hadn’t been looking at you and had his head turned elsewhere, brows furrowed and face shaped in one of concentration you seemed to recognize.

 

“Nero?”

 

Your calling out to him seemed to have snapped him out of his daze and he held onto your hand with his left firmly and led you to the bike in a rather rushed manner which you thought was slightly unlike him, not that you knew him all that well at all, but it just didn’t seem to click. He made sure you were seated and balanced carefully before he hopped on in suit and started the engine. Your arms quickly wrapped around his torso in a simple reflex as you were quite horrified by the possibility of his driving away before you could hold onto him properly, but you couldn’t suppress your confusion regardless of your fear and so you voiced it, one of your palms laid flat on his torso in an attempt to get his attention. “What’s the matter?” You inquired and didn’t get a response until Nero revved the engine, the sound reaching your ears menacingly.

 

“Started smellin’ like hell over here, better get the hell out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day together brings you closer.


	6. ivoire;

_“Started smellin’ like hell over here, better get the hell out.”_

 

“Two... Six... Eight... And that’s all sixteen of them, boss.”

 

You counted each bottle as you pulled them out of the paper bags they were placed in and put them on the bar top carefully, with utmost respect to the bottles and their contents; the tip of your tongue poking from between your glossy lips as you focused. Nero watched with mild interest from where he leaned on his left elbow on the same wooden surface, noting how dedicated you seemed to be to your job and the owner Lester. He wondered the details of your relationship, how come you were sucked into this mess and ended up working for a bar that was in reality a hideout for people who slaughtered bad, otherworldly creatures that hunted down humans; ‘devil hunters’ as dumb as it sounded to him. You couldn’t have been that ignorant, could you, blindly believing whatever Lester said, whatever the news declared with a smile on your pretty little face? Did you even realize that the man you were working for was so much more than who he claimed to be, with six hundred and sixty six faces behind his black sunglasses. Yet you seemed eager to please, giving your all into your work. Maybe you took notice of the signs however choose deliberately to ignore them as you needed a job and money to get by. Or maybe you really trusted Lester, which was a foreign concept to him.

 

The thought made him look at the six foot man with black sunglasses, black eyebrows furrowing. Nero still couldn’t fully trust this man even though Dante seemed to be in a partnership with him and his intentions seemed to be good. Lester was fully aware of his reluctance to possibly form an alliance with the male. He had always been more of a lone wolf, even back in Fortuna Island he refused to partner up with others as they would only get in his way. Unlike everyone else, he seemed to be in perfect synchronization with Dante as it proved up until now, it came naturally to him. He would never be able to take Dante down in a one on one, not yet at least, but fighting a battle back to back with him was a different sensation. However, even though he worked with Dante for the moment that didn’t necessarily imply he would continue to do so in the future, so he was sure Lester wanted to snatch a demon demon-hunter who was ‘blessed’ with the holy blood of Sparda. Seems his people back in Fortuna weren’t the only ones worshipping this demon. He called bullshit. What really irked him was the fact that he used you to see his talents should he would engage in a battle; his intentions weren’t only limited to keeping you from harm’s way; Nero wasn’t naïve. 

 

“Though… Château d'Yquem, Chateau Margaux and 1947 Cheval-Blanc…? Sixteen of them? That’s a fortune, what’s the occasion?” His eyes turned back to your lithe frame, observing the details of your face; the unique color of your eyes and how they sparkled in wonder, the curve of your nose, your pink-dusted cheekbones, your glossed lips, your fair complexion, the way your locks and rouge strands framed your face… The day was still young, with the sunlight seeping through the windows and illuminating the place, you reminded him of something otherworldly; something to worship whose purity he thought he would taint forever should he chant your name. Your lips kept moving to form words of self-expression and engaged in a conversation with the other male but he had long ago lost his attention, finding himself lost amidst his rude thoughts. This was wrong, thinking so scandalously of someone he had just met; it had never been his thing to look at woman and wonder how their skin would feel beneath his palms but in your presence, it had become an instinct seeping from his gut, fighting its way up his stomach where it clawed mercilessly, a need so intense it made him feel fear for the second time in your presence ever since he laid his eyes on you, deeming him a thirsty monster all of a sudden.

 

“…ro? Nero? Hello, from world to Nero, bzzzt, can you hear me?"

 

Your frantic, nothing short of ridiculous hand movements before his eyes snapped him out of his daze, making him swipe his nose with the tip of his thumb in embarrassment before he faced your cheerfully smiling face, having to focus on the atmosphere not to find himself lost in his thoughts that seemed to be revolving around you against his own will once again. You seemed relieved to have gotten his attention at last and from the unabashed amusement sparkling in your bright orbs he could guess that you had been trying to involve him in the conversation for a while now, you had your hands placed on either side of your waist and leaned your weight on one leg, your mischievous composure making you look as if you knew something no one else did. From the corner of his eye he could see the knowing smirk forming on Lester’s face, which he wanted to smack off his face so badly but had to contain his urges as not to make a scene and freak you out since it would be quite horrifying to see a gigantic spiritual demonic hand stemming from his right arm that bashed Lester’s face into the shelf behind him, even if you was involved in this mess, which he was quite certain you weren’t.

 

“Yeah?” He replied, not quite looking at you as he hadn’t been expecting to be caught red-handed in such manner. Red dusting his skin brought out the enchanting blue of his eyes and created a perfect contrast with his fair complexion, visible to naked eye in daylight. “Geez, you didn’t hear a word, did you?” You scolded him, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed although anyone could see that the action didn’t have any bite to it, just playful teasing more than anything. You then proceeded to shake your head in artificial disappointment, eyelids falling close, your long lashes brushing your skin as you did so. “You see, boss man here was telling us to cook up something to eat. You wanna hang around for a while?” You offered with a smile and he believed for a moment he saw hope sparkle in your eyes, only fooling himself. Before he could open his mouth and decline your offer kindly by making something up and saying he had things to take care of, Lester ruffled his snowy white locks as if he were a child, resulting in Nero slapping his hand away in irritation. “Course he’s stayin’, eh? She’s a pretty damn good cook. Ya know, half the pizzas Dante order were made by those hands.” Although he opted glaring at Lester for good measure, his attention crawled back to you when you offered a nervous laughter, seeing your cheeks were once again dusted a pretty red, as they always seemed to be whenever you were offered a compliment. Something about it made Nero’s stomach turn unpleasantly, almost as if it were a kick to his ribs, he felt as if he had been slammed on the ground so hard he ran out of oxygen just by the sheer force of it. A string pulled him closer to you in a spiritual manner he wouldn’t be able to convey with words should he even be able to understand its force, its magnetic field.

 

“Ah, boss man, you’re exaggerating. You’re the real chef here, I could never hold a candle to your talents.” You chuckled again, and shyly brushed a stray lock behind your ear before you let your hand fall back to your side where you stuffed the tips of your four fingers into the pockets of your jeans. “You’ve been spoiling me rotten lately, you know? You don’t even let me do as much work, I feel as if I’m undeserving of the money I make here.” Another shake of your head, though this time, Nero noted the way your smile smoothened around the edges and blended into a serious expression, proving your words weren’t meant to be brushed off and that you were sincere in speaking them. It was only then it occurred to Nero that you were right; Lester treated you differently than an employee, he himself didn’t quite resemble an employer paying someone to do the work for him. Most of the time you were busy with you studies and you only worked night shifts if you did, and even though you were there most of the time there were hardly any customers, making him question his source of money. As far as he knew, Lester didn’t request payment from the hunters for the accommodation he provided. His eyes narrowed I suspicion as he came to the realization that this place, however you look at it; a bar or a hideout, couldn’t have been his only source of income. He didn’t even have any other workers here other than you as far as he knew, but you hadn’t mentioned any, neither did he see someone else other than you here during his visits. What exactly was this man up to that he didn’t know, and was Dante aware of it? Hard to say he wouldn’t be since he seemed to be pretty close with the man regardless of his relations and intentions.  Whatever it was, if it would end up with you being dragged into a mess you had no relation with, he would—

 

“Don’t be so uptight, you try your best, we appreciate you tryin’ your best. I ain’t kickin’ your ass out just ‘cause you’ve been slackin’ off, everybody needs that sometimes.” Your boss explained and abandoned the shot glass he had been polishing in favor of another. “Not like can make you serve customers that ain’t even here. ‘Cept for this punk standing in front of ya. Maybe for givin’ you a ride.” Lester turned his head in Nero’s way and he couldn’t help a scoff. You, on the other hand, seemed to be okay with the idea and rather delighted as your eyes brightened up with something akin to realization before you exclaimed excitedly. “I know! I was going to tell you about that! Nero took me to Ollie’s by his bike! I did it, you know, I thought I would die and he would have to drag my corpse back here because my heart was beating so fast and my hands were sweating and I was sweating too but I did it, and it was so cool! Nero could ride all the way there with one arm injured, too, it’s amazing.” The more you spoke, the more he felt himself flush, growing eerily uncomfortable under your series of compliments as he wasn’t quite used to so openly receiving them since he was rather smug about his abilities and talents and that resulted in people keeping their distance much to his relief and speaking ill of him. Although admittedly being the subject of your admiration reached to something deep within his chest and touched that gently, making a warmth spread through his very being and warm him from the inside.

 

“Oh? You didn’t shit yourself this time?” Lester humored, resulting in another layer of rushing to your cheeks, “Is he your knight in shining armor, now?” As uncomfortable as he was, he couldn’t possibly match the way your skin flushed aggressively as if you had been irritating it for hours on end to achieve the color, lower lip getting caught between the two rows of teeth. It hit him hard, he found himself flexing his human hand as it itched with the very urge to reach out and trace the red of your skin, see where it went and where it dissolved into the natural color of your skin. “Boss man!” You scolded the elder, your voice was a few pitches higher as you suffered your shame.

 

The ride to and back on the other hand was indeed… the origin of his own embarrassment as the whole way, he could feel your arms tight around him as you held onto him for dear life even if it was simply out of your fear for falling, he could feel the way you pressed up to him from behind him and your chest on his back very explicitly, he could feel the insides of your thighs against his legs. If he tried hard enough, he was sure glad he hadn’t, he could hear your heart beating rapidly in your ribcage. Luckily, you were so terrified of the possibility of something bad unfolding that you had your head pressed on his back, therefore missed the way he actually used both hands to maneuver the vehicle as he had it unstrapped for today intentionally. As lucky as he might have been, it was a wicked play of fate in his favor that you were afraid of riding motorcycles, and he didn’t intend to push this luck further. The idea of your finding out about his arm and completely shutting him out… made him uneasy. You were the first person he felt comfortable with in ages, since leaving his sister figure back at home, though if he were to be honest, he felt this attraction to you, a need within his monster reaching out to taunt your beauty as he might put it— he was pulled so strongly into your willing embrace, that he didn’t quite want to escape it.

 

“You— Uh, y’did pretty good. Dealin’ with rides ‘nd old men all day.” He finally found it in himself to answer, making Lester look at him before his looks turned back to you, arms crossed over his chest as he had abandoned his work quite a while ago. “That old geezer, still a goddamn dick, huh?” Lester scolded, and he could see the way his eyebrows furrowed in discontent even if his sight was shielded by his black shades, preventing anyone a glimpse of his eyes. “Gennaro just had t’be outta town, I hate doin’ business with him no matter the results.”

 

Your conversation was interrupted by the soft clang of the bell as the door opened and a customer made himself at home, slowly approaching the bar with sloppy steps, already hammered long before he came here. Nero noted how this man was the same as the one who was drooling on the bar before the two of you left him with Lester. He wasn’t there when you came back, likely having been kicked out by Lester, but apparently he deemed coming back to drink more in broad day light much more appealing and clever, making a fool of himself. Just how much he reeked of alcohol irritated Nero’s sensitive nostrils and perception of smell unpleasantly, making him turn his face away from him with a frown marring his face and a huff leaving his nose. He noted how you had a similar expression, but neither of you said anything. “Oscar! Didn’ I tell ya to go sober up, huh?! Why’d you drag your drunk ass back here?” Apparently Oscar sat down regardless of Lester’s scolding and forced a lopsided smile. “Know man, know. One more, eh? One more? Ever since Lydia, I…” He trailed off helplessly, looking down at the wooden surface. Lester heaved a sigh, and as irritation dissolved into one of mild sympathy, he shook his head. Lester gave you a look, and he felt your fragile hand curl around his calloused one as you leaded him back, and as he followed you blindly, on the way into what he guessed to be kitchen, he heard Lester say; “One more. Then y’go out and get a life. Y’can’t die with the dead, gotta move on.”

 

Once you leaded him in the kitchen, you let go of his hand and it suddenly felt much colder without your touch in his, and he watched as you silently peeked through the door before closing it and leaning against it. You then heaved a sigh and pursed your lips, palms flat on the door. “That man…” You began, eyes roaming the tiles on the ground. “I think he lost his daughter or something. He’s been coming here a lot and drinking a lot, boss man kicks him out every time and tells him to get himself together at some point, but he always comes back saying one more. One more day, one more day…” He watched as you pressed your lips into a tight line and furrowed your brows in what happened to be anger. You pushed yourself away from the door and advanced further into the kitchen, where you grabbed a pan. “It’s not easy, I know. I mean, I never went through the thing he did so I can’t say I understand completely, but that can’t be the way.” You placed the pan on the stone stove and leaned on the counter so you could turn back to look at him, and he noted the way your look had softened. You wanted him to get better, go ahead and do something good with his life; you felt for a man you had only seen before, you felt for a man you didn’t even know that well if at all. “What do you think, Nero?”

 

He found himself mimicking you and leaning against the wall next to the door you came through, eyes set on the wood as if he could see through it and stare right at the man of subject. “He’s just tryin’a find a way out. Druggin’ himself completely, so he doesn’t believe it happened. He’s only foolin’ himself, nobody else.” He looked back at you when you spoke, having made yourself comfortable seated on the marble counter. “I agree.” You replied, looking at the door. “You can’t change who you are or things that happened by concealing them and pretending they never happened. Trying to be someone else, live a different life by concealing our flaws only makes them stand out more, I think. Because no lie, no delusion stays earthed.” You commented, and Nero felt his insides twist and churn, this time in unpleasant discomfort rather than the previous pleasant tickling he felt urged on by the way your skin flushed; this was one of utter shame. There you stood, having no idea about what he was whatsoever, making small talk with him so comfortably; and he was deluding you just like the drunkard inside was deluding himself. He was trying to make you believe he wasn’t what he was by concealing his arm in such manner, if only you knew. You might have as well been talking to him rather than about Oscar. ‘No lie stays earthed.’ He never realized he had been hoping for it to only until you voiced your concerns. “Yeah.” He somehow managed, finding his eyes drift to his casted arm. His leather covered fingers clenched into a tight fist, and he might have found his blood boiling in self-destructive anger if not for your voice calling him, having gained its cheer once again.

 

“Anywho! This might as well be the ‘one last day’, or I’ll kick some sense to him!” His eyes drifted back to you as you hopped off the counter and made your way around the kitchen so you could grab the ingredients you required to make whatever dish you had on mind, and he found himself following you instead of standing there like a prick in case you needed any help. It appears you didn’t, you retrieved a couple of olives and a jar of smaller green rounds and a can of something. You hummed and looked for something, which you had apparently found judging by your victorious ‘oh!’ and walked away from the fridge, leaving it for him to close. “I knew we had shrimp. Do you like it, Nero?” You looked back at him with a smile as you inquired, making him shrug and follow you to your next stop. “I guess.” He replied dully as you two rounded the place, he got to take in the kitchen. In the middle was a kitchen counter, on which was a middle-sized shelf for ingredients was built. You stopped at the stove on which you placed a pan earlier on for it to heat gradually and reached for the shelf secured on the wall across the counter after having left the current occupants of your arm and picked a long and thin red pepper, green leaves of something, small tomatoes, garlic…? “So, I’m assuming you also wouldn’t mind spaghetti, then?” When you were apparently satisfied with your arrangement, you retrieved the cutting board which happened to be leaned against the wall next to him, not before flashing him a bright smile. “Sure.” He replied, the corners of his lips tugging up faintly, slightly relieved of the uncomfortably ache blossomed in his chest.

 

“Awesome! We have homemade squid ink pasta here if you’d like? Though I kinda think it wouldn’t make sense since it’s shrimp we’re using, not taste wise but it’s kind of dumb soooo how about, hmm.. tagliatelle? It’s like spaghetti but it’s flat. That’s homemade too, but dried a little, so it should take about the same amount of time for it and shrimp to cook, what do you say?” You asked and he followed you once again as you placed the cutting board on the table, leaning against the counter on which you worked. “I dunno any o’that, so kinda have ta trust y’with food and hope y’dun poison me anyway.” He offered in an attempt to humor you as you did him, though whether or not he proved successful remained a mystery to him. If the hearty laugh you offered that had his own lips lifting up was any indication, you were pleased with his tries. “Excuse you!” You exclaimed with a chuckle and went to grab the aforementioned tagli— pasta and you released two of the curls into a large pan of boiling water with several strainers positioned in them. “I might not be as good as boss exaggerated, but I don’t think I’ve killed anyone with my cooking yet!” You then came back to the counter and opened the can of something and picked two of the brown things laying in oil and placed them on the cutting board. He could almost taste the salt in the air. He watched you as you quickly chopped them rather professionally, unable to help himself.

 

“What’s that?” He asked you and jerked his head in the general direction of the cutting board to indicate what he was referring to, though you didn’t look up at him, you must have known what he was talking about because you replied. “Anchovies. These are canned, and they’re salty. They’re quite common in Italian cuisine, I didn’t know that.” You replied and placed the cloves of garlic on the cutting board before you laying your blade flat on them and crushing with your hands. He wanted to ask again but opted to watch you silently instead and luckily, you answered anyway. “When you crush garlic this way, the oils inside are released and… Ta-daa! Easily removed.” You demonstrated your hypothesis and peeled them easily, holding one up for him to see. To think he’d actually learn something watching you cook, like anchovies could be canned or garlic could be peeled easily… He watched you chop the garlic professionally as well, and you moved onto the red pepper. “This is chili. I don’t like spicy food because it makes my ears burn but when you use about quarter of this without the seeds, it’s actually nice.”

 

With the revealed information haunting his consciousness, he watched you happily chop away at the pepper, wondering how you’d look after you had eaten something you didn’t know was spicy and regretted it instantly. Your face would get sour and you would try to drink water maybe, and maybe the heat would make that flush he came to look forward to resurface. Maybe you’d wave your hand in front of your face in an attempt to cool down, but it would prove insufficient. Maybe you’d be cute after all, and you’d pass on the heat on your lips to his— No. No you wouldn’t. By the time he managed to eradicate the thoughts running wild in his head, you had already finished chopping the small ‘cherry’ tomatoes and was on your way deseeding the olives. “Could you open that for me, Nero?” You asked as you pointed at the jar of small green dots and went to grab a spoon. He did as you asked easily, having used both his hands when your back was turned to him. “Thank you!” You said as you took a spoonful of that while he was still holding the jar for you to take and placed the spoonful on the cutting board next to everything you chopped up, leaving the jar with him which he took as his cue to close it. “These are capers, by the way.” You said with a small chuckle as you prepared the shrimp, checking the pan by holding your hand over it to see whether it was hot.

 

You poured olive oil into the pan and started placing the shrimp you claimed to be deveined and washed previously into very heated pan. You left the shrimp there for a moment to retrieve your cutting board now full of ingredients, and he found his curiosity piqued so he followed you to the stove to look over your shoulder at what you were doing. One by one you placed the capers, anchovies, garlic, chili, the olives you deseeded, small tomatoes you cut in half in the pan. Salt, pepper. Green leaves. You took a handful and inhaled their scent deeply before turning over your shoulder to offer him your palm for him to do the same, and he found himself mimicking the action. “See, they smell so nice.” They smelled as if they had been sprayed with layers of perfume before, and it was a scent he thought he knew. “They do.” He agreed and you placed them on top of the ingredients in the pan and covered it by placing another pan on top. “We have to let them cook for a while.” You explained and went to wash your hands on the other end of the counter, and he took his previous place leaning against it.

 

“How about you go sit down? There’s a small table in the back, and I’ll lay the table?” You asked over the sound of water and your hands scrubbing, and he did as you asked standing instead of sitting like you told him to as he felt it would be rude to make himself comfortable when you were doing all the work. The smell of the food on the stove filled the kitchen deliciously and him with a sense of unfamiliar nostalgia. When you came back with a disposable table cloth, two napkins, plates and forks for the two of you, he took them so he could do it for you despite your lighthearted protests. He laid the cloth on the table and positioned the plates across from each other with forks next to them on the napkins. In the meantime, you disappeared off to the bar and came with two wine glasses, a bottle of already opened white wine and a bright flush on your cheeks, no doubt have been poked fun at by Lester. He raised his eyebrows at you questioningly, to which you seemed to go redder. “It’s on the sweeter side, so it goes nicely with shrimp tagliatelle?” You answered as if you were asking a question with your shoulders raised and head tilted in a sheepish manner, making him take a deep breath and nod at you before averting his eyes from you.

 

You took this as your cue to place the glasses and the bottle on the table before hurrying back to check on the meal, which you deemed was done. He watched you from the back corner as you silently took the pan from the heat and brought it closer to the batch of boiling water where you checked the paste and made sure it was cooked before you lifted the strainer you placed it in, holding it over the pot made at least some of the pasta water drain into the pan and you dumped the pasta in the pot, stirred and tossed it around with your tongs, making sure everything was well coated with the sauce. He was back at the table standing when you came over with the meal you had prepared for the two of you, and stood on his side as you plated yourself a portion and switched sides to pull your chair for you when you plated him a portion. “Thank you.” You said and made your way back to the stove to leave the empty pot there and came back with the flush on your face subdued a little and a smile on your face. Even though he wasn’t sure what to feel about alcohol in general, he didn’t raise any complaints as you poured a glass for the two of you and finally took a seat.

 

“Finally!” You said and he only moved to sit down once you’ve done so, inspecting his food with mild interest. “Looks delicious.” He offered and indeed, it smelled even better than it looked and the idea was familiar, ‘Italian cuisine’ as you had previously referred to categorize this kind of food was apparently what they had in Fortuna. He had never thought about it, never felt the need to do so but watching you prepare a meal, he could see the affection you had for cooking and how much you liked it considering you knew what you were doing and didn’t need an ounce of help or a bit of hint throughout the process. You only offered him a smile through your mouthful of food and he stabbed the fork into the pasta and twirled it around a little sloppily given it wasn’t his dominant hand but he had been using it for a while so he had grown used to using utensils with it, making sure he actually had something on the fork before digging in. As he had guessed, the taste was familiar, almost as heavenly as the food back there which was cooked by professional chefs for the holy knights who served under the name of Sparda. “How’s it?”

 

He found himself devouring another forkful before he said anything at all, he could feel your gaze on him in the meantime as you sipped your wine. You looked radiant, could it possibly be because you were happy he liked your cooking? He quickly swiped his mouth clean and went for his glass; it took him a large gulp for him to decide that was enough for the rest of the meal as the alcohol burned its way down his throat and that he neither liked nor hated the taste you seemed to be fond of. His hand on the table, fork leaned against the edge of the plate, he replied at last. “It’s very good. Reminds me of home.”

 

That seemed to pique your interest because you leaned in slightly but was deemed unable to voice your curiosity until you chewed your food. “Really? Where are you from?” You asked him at last, and thankfully he had seen that coming because he devoured another generous spoonful of pasta, giving him enough time to contemplate whether he should be honest or not. Your words from earlier rung in his mind almost as a reminder, and even if he wanted to lie and could before, he couldn’t then. He swallowed his food and poked around his food, as rude as that was, for a bit before replying. “Uh, some place called The Fortuna Island. Pretty ancient I guess.”

 

The name must have been familiar to you because your eyes widened in disbelief for a moment as you placed your fork down and made a face, this time one of doubt as if you weren’t sure the information you had on the subject offered was correct or incorrect. He watched in an anxiety that was uncalled for, making him wait nervously. “Wait…” You began, your eyebrows raised to form a look of disbelief this time. “You mean… You mean where people worship a demon as a God?” You asked unsurely, even slightly accusingly before you lifted your hands up as you thought you made a gaffe. “I mean, I might be incorrect. I’m not that good at history, but I think I remember this one. I might be wrong though, so—” He cut in before you could fuss over it any longer, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, ‘s true.”

 

This time, your surprise was crystal clear and you didn’t even try to conceal it as he thought you still couldn’t quite believe that. “It’s real?! They really do that? Do you? I mean, I don’t have the right to question your beliefs or the right to accuse you or judge you or anything like that but—” How you seemed to try to be polite not to hurt his feelings amidst your shock was beyond him, and in an attempt to reassure you he offered a twitch of lips. “No, ‘s fine. Religion ‘nd I dun really mix. ‘S beyond me, but people do whatever they have t’do.”

 

“That’s…” You averted your gaze from his face as you contemplated your words, your eyebrows furrowed in that of disbelief once again. “That’s absolutely absurd. To believe that demons exist let alone worship one as a God? I thought it was just a myth that died long ago when I first heard of it, but everything about that… uh, whatever his name was betraying his kind and all…” You chuckled then, amusement apparent in your tone as you had obviously deemed it impossible. “I call bullshit.”

 

“I wholeheartedly agree with yer words o’wisdom.” A voice offered from behind you and you squealed, luckily the gloved hand on your chair prevented you from falling down. Nero on the other hand was fully alert and standing, ready to use whatever available within vicinity or his customized gun holstered to the side of his chest to eliminate the danger posed. Recognizing it to be none other than Dante did little to ease his posture and he saw you had a hand over your chest, your eyes closed.

 

“What the hell ‘re y’doin’ here, old man?” Nero breathed, voice nothing like the one that sounded when he talked to you; it was the one that surfaced when in battle, threatening, ominous. “Easy, kiddo!” Dante exclaimed and let go of your chair so he could clap his hands and motion Nero closer as if he were a dog, which riled the male even further, resulting in him clenching his teeth and furrowing his eyebrows, fury painted on his face. He almost reached for the gun on his right to blast his brains all over the wall knowing he would stand up fine anyway; but the only thing preventing him from doing so was the fact that you were still sitting in front of him. Dante was roaming freely in confident steps now, hands open on both sides nonchalantly. “What’s this? Food… Wine… Two kids in love…? Where’s the goddamn candles?” When he realized there wasn’t a single thing stopping him from fixing Dante one in the face, he felt your gentle touch on him, warning him, telling him it wasn’t a big deal and that he was better than that silently; all simply by touching him. “Spill it.” Nero demanded, letting you stand before him.

 

“Much as I hate t’interrupt yer cute little date, kiddo... Business calls. Make up t’her some other time.”

 


	7. voix;

_“Much as I hate t’interrupt yer cute little date, kiddo... Business calls. Make up t’her some other time.”_

 

It had been a week since Dante scared you out of your mind and came to pick Nero up since they had an emergency situation that arose and ever since the ‘date’ you two had in the kitchen of the bar you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You didn’t even know when you started counting the days of Nero’s absence. The flames of infatuation he lit within your core grew into a forest fire and burned you from inside every time you wished he was there for you but wasn’t, every time you closed your eyes and painted a picture of him behind your eyelids in the dark, the scars left in your core would be healed with the warmth radiating from his very existence. You thought you had stopped making sense; you had definitely found other people attractive and felt attracted to them at some point but it had never ever been like this, this strong, this insatiable, to the point you would wake up every day wondering whether you would see him today, feeling upset whenever you couldn’t. And it scared you more than ever; both the possibility of his rejection even though you doubted you would ever have the guts to open your heart to him, and who he really was but was adamant on not sharing. Devil May Cry had been closed ever since their departure, just like last time. Whatever he and Dante did for a living required their leaving the city for a few days if not weeks, you concluded, since this was no different from when you hadn’t seen them for two weeks earlier when you had your finals.

 

When you asked about the details of their profession, your boss briefly mentioned about their being ‘bodyguards’ working for a private organization or something before he hastily attempted to change the topic and tried not to dwell on it, and you didn’t comment on his gaffe and played along with him. Better make people believe you were an idiot than a genius, especially when you had a talent for sniffing out a lie. It still felt peculiar that your boss would think you were naïve enough to dismiss his gaffe that easily; did he think you were an idiot or something? How could you believe that he couldn’t possibly know what they did for a living, especially after having seen them together on more than one occasion; the close friendship he maintained with Dante and how he was able to reach to Nero and ask for his help the other day when you needed to run errands for him…  To be that close, you must have mentioned work at least once or twice, there was no possible way not to know something so blatant about someone whom you were noticeably close with. You were suspicious of not only their work but your boss’ honesty now, though you hadn’t shown your colors once to your boss, since he was a perceptive man and could easily take note of your reluctance were you not careful. It was exhausting to pretend to have forgotten that, but you were still your flamboyant person. You kept working full shifts for some extra cash to save up and the bar seemed to be doing better each passing day with seemingly more customers noting of its existence until the last day of your spring break.

 

On Saturday night, you and your friends from university conversed on a messenger application and decided it would be a good change for all of you to come together once again and have some fun singing before the semester started once again, when you would be too busy to do anything together at all as this was your last semester before you graduated. You hadn’t been able to spend that much time with them too, as all of you had been too busy to participate in club activities since you were seniors. You all had enough on your plates; at least you did, having to run from one place to another during the day trying to get your internship done and have reference letters written by the professors you trusted had real impact on companies. Even though you didn’t talk much about it to anyone who wasn’t a friend, not even your boss even if he knew it was your last year, you had a few interviews with the famous drinks company Abraxas and showed them samples of your work. They were a huge cooperation in this country yet they were trying to expand their services overseas, they needed a translator for the company’s correspondence with firms overseas. You were up for the challenge and they were contemplating their response, but you were hopeful. If things went your way, your application would be approved and you would start working there as a businesswoman and quit your job. Even if you got to be a productive member of society, you would miss working with Lester and being a student. Graduation ceremony was right around the corner, you just needed to do this for one last month and you would be an adult who achieved more than one naturally did at your young age… All the more reason to meet up with friends and spend whatever little time you could with them before you parted your ways. Before you went to sleep that night, you connected your phone to charger and called your boss to ask whether you could take a day off. Only after he said yes did you close your eyes to a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

 

When you woke up the next morning, you did so with your eyes closed and a smile on your lips. You didn’t have to work today, you would meet up with your friends and after so long and you could sing with them. You absolutely loved music, it filled your very being and touched something sacred within your very soul. Nothing moved you like music did, and you also loved doing it on the streets where your audience was the people passing by. It usually piqued their interest and they would come see you compose a song with your friends, more often than not they would wait until you were done and sometimes, you could convince one of two to sing along with you. It wasn’t something that required talent, what you did on the streets was because it was fun, not because you all were going to grow up into musical geniuses. Moreover, it was always fun to spend time with friends doing something you like and meeting new people doing so. The idea put you in a relatively good mood and you waited for when you were ready to bid farewell to your soft pillows and blankets.

 

You yawned and turned to lay on your stomach for a few minutes, stuffing your arms under the pillow you lay your head on, rubbing your face into the pillows, still not quite ready to wake up. You could probably go back to sleep if you just lay there with your face buried in your soft pillow since you weren’t fully awake yet, but you were quite certain you had slept more than eight hours which was more than enough an average human being, and if you slept any further you would reset the natural sleeping arrangements of your body, result in making a mess of yourself. You couldn’t have that happening, not when you had classes tomorrow at eight in the morning. Classes… You would need to go shopping sometime before the graduation ceremony, too. You needed a decent dress and a pair of shoes as you had none. It was a special occasion, you would only graduate once in your life so you needed to dress for the occasion. You heaved a sigh into the pillow, your thoughts slowly arousing you from your sleep. Maybe you guys would go shopping for clothes today? No, no you wouldn’t. They wouldn’t want to, any neither would you; you agreed on spending the day making music and grabbing a few rounds of drinks with the money you would make. Today was meant to be no-school related at all, as Kamiya insisted, and they were right, which meant you would have to go by yourself some other time.

 

You stayed like that with your face in your pillow for a few more minutes and had to slide your knees under your stomach to push yourself up into a sitting position on the bed, your hair tousled from turning around in your sleep. You could tell you needed a shower by how oily your face and hair felt in the morning. So you slid your legs from beneath you and off the bed to pad into the bathroom, intent on brushing your teeth, washing your face and taking a long and steamy shower. Which you did; under the soft caress of the warm water, your tense muscles relaxed the more you rubbed soap into your skin, your arms, your chest. Every time you took a shower, once in two days, you didn’t want to get out. Your love for water didn’t go unnoticed by many; throughout the day you would consume large amounts of water and would frequently wash your face and hands, though the latter was due to your love for hygiene than water, but they had a point. You shampooed your hair and massaged the product into the soft locks, the tips of your fingers rubbed your scalp and eased you of a dull headache. You quite enjoyed the soft feeling of your hair in your palms so you played around with it for a few extra minutes as the water hit your face and chest from above. When you decided you were clean enough to go through the day, you rinsed your hair and your body and stepped out of the shower into your bathrobes. Soft, fluffy burnouse covering your body reminded you that of your bed, always feeling a little tired and lazy after a good shower, you decided to roll around in your blankets for a few minutes in nothing but your bathrobes. Nothing was stopping you from doing exactly that, so you did it and made yourself comfortable. By the time you were ready to leave the bed once again, the fabric of your robes absorbed the water drops dotted on your skin and your wet hair left a wet spot on your pillow.

 

It was still quite early, you decided to meet up at the city center around half past one post meridiem, so you had time to fix yourself a quick breakfast. You stopped to brush your wet locks first, though, as you found it much harder to comb through when they dried tangled like this, parting your hair the way you used it. The sloth in you encouraged you to prepare yourself a breakfast in your robes, but you could feel the back of its collar wet and if you stayed in this any longer you would get a sore neck. The rational part seemed to win the battle and you decided to put on a thin shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, not wanting to risk staining your clothes.

 

You lazily padded into the kitchen barefooted. One look at the empty fridge was enough to depress you. You were someone who took well care of your health and especially your kitchen, but since you had been working and eating at the bar, you hadn’t felt the need to buy ingredients. You closed the refrigerator door gloomily and returned to the confines of your room with nothing left to do other than to get dressed. You had no choice but to grab something to eat on your way. Maybe you would go to the bar to grab something to drink; it was closer to city center than your home which was located in suburbs and every day early in the morning, Lester would prepare a delicious colazione menu. Sometimes it would consist of delicious focaccia; he would get creative and make it with onions, potatoes, cheese, rosemary and tomato, thyme and garlic, wild mushrooms and olive oil… Your favorite was basil and cherry tomatoes combination, but the rest were just as good. Sometimes he would make cornetto, sometimes bread rolls, sometimes Macedonia, sometimes muesli… God, the thought alone was enough to make your stomach growl in disappointment and your mouth water. You had gotten so dependent on Lester lately, especially his cooking but dear Lord was he good! What were you going to do without him when you had to leave your job? Sure, he could take you for an absolute moron at times and it kind of pissed you off, but he always looked out for you, too.

 

You shook your head almost in an attempt to chase your thoughts away and went through your wardrobe, thinking of wearing something cute but comfortable. Maybe a pair of denim shorts and a shirt? No, you didn’t quite feel like it, perhaps a sundress since the weather was getting warmer each passing day? You didn’t have a lot you could choose from, but you decided on a beige sundress with burnt pink and light pink roses on it, whose color was complimented by dark green petals stemming from them. You decided it was casual and would be a perfect choice on this sunny day. You shrugged your shirt off and kicked your shorts away and moved to wear the dress, though not before folding your clothes and putting them in their respective drawers since they were pretty much clean. Once you had worn the dress, you turned to give yourself the once-over in the pier glass, smoothing the fabric of the skirt down. The dress was comfortable and it reached just above your knees; it hugged your body snugly and left your right arm exposed while the left was covered by its loose sleeve that reached to your wrist and had a slit that ran down to your bicep.

 

 Although heels would go well with the dress, it would make it look a little more on the smart side, not to mention the fact that you would never consider wearing heels to a meet-up with friends, not when you planned on touring the city on foot. Never. You recalled that you had a pair of brown sandals that would go with this dress left somewhere in the house, this was a good chance to put them on. Though your quest to find those shoes could wait, since you decided to put on some very light makeup. You didn’t necessarily think makeup was bad for the complexion, you just didn’t know how to put it on. Even learning how to line your eyes properly took you a lot of practice and one too many incidents of poking your eye with it, resulting in crying black. You had managed to master it though, even if that meant almost pressing your nose on the mirror and pulling your temples taut to get a clean line. Today you were lucky since it took you only three minutes to line your eyes, put on some mascara and lip gloss and spray a few rounds of your favorite citrus-scented perfume. You stopped to look at yourself once again, turning left and right, admiring the way you looked. Your hair dried on its own which gave it a natural look and you left it down, happy with the way you looked. You just needed to find your sandals and maybe you would take that brown indie backpack you always used to put your keys, phone and purse in it.

 

You were done in five minutes with your backpack slug over a shoulder and the door locked and at the bar in twenty five after having taken the minibus to get there the quickest way possible. You peeked through the glass before actually making yourself in. The place seemed to be relatively calm as usual, you could make out a few locals dotted here and there, but it wasn’t too crowded overall. You pushed the door open with a smile on your face and an empty stomach and the bell attached above it notified the current occupants of your arrival. Your boss looked at you and must have greeted you but your attention was conquered by two eerily familiar figures seated at the bar with their backs to you. You didn’t even need to look at their faces to identify them as the white locks framing their pale skin was enough of an indication; after all, you didn’t see many naturally white haired men walking around. As you made your way over to the bar with excitement and anticipation brewing within you, the two turned to look at you as well, one greeting you with widened icy blue orbs and the other with an amused quirk of lips.

 

“Hello, Dante, Nero! You’re back.” You greeted with a smile on your face, thumb looped through the strap of your backpack. Dante turned sideways on his seat and his eyes trailed from your face down to your feet, lips pursing to whistle through the gap. Your cheeks colored significantly at his gesture, and he pointed at you but looked at Lester almost as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and were asking for confirmation before turning back to you. “Hello, gorgeous. What’s the occasion?” He was, as always, dressed in his extravagant red-black leather combo and this time he had a red coat that was almost as tall as he was on, a knowing smile gracing his features. You took notice of how he shaved, since it made him look younger. Nero seemed to be dressed differently this time; almost as extravagant as Dante’s outfit was. He was wearing a blue denim shirt that slightly faded to purple and was buttoned up to his neck where he had two buttons undid under a long indigo coat that was long enough to reach down to the backs of his knees. He was wearing a faded, black jeans with two straps around his left thigh and boots that reached up to just under his knees. You noted the way how he had his arm out of the cast, but was wearing a glove on the same right hand. Over his shoulders, was wrapped a scarf that was almost as long as his coat. He must have found the wooden surface much more interesting because he wouldn’t look at you, much to your dismay. At Dante’s compliment, you seemed to flush a brighter red, averting your gaze from his to the inexpensive, worn out wooden floor. “I’m, um. I’m meeting up with some friends today. Decided to come here to have breakfast since my place had been lonely these days.” You replied and attempted at a joke to ease your discomfort, which Dante so masterfully manipulated and resulted in you flushing an even brighter red. “Lonely, huh? Well, I got a plus one ‘ere ‘f you’d like ta play ‘hide the zucchini’ with him at yer lonely place ‘nd make it more... Y’know, lively.”

 

His jab was at Nero and it was blatantly obvious. He had been eerily silent since your arrival and didn’t even greet you, which you found to be odd, and was leaning on his left arm on the bar top, head turned away from the scene unfolding before his eyes until Dante’s comment, which had him throwing Dante the nastiest glare you had ever seen, right hand making a move to grab the other by the collar. “Woah, woah!” You piqued in and quickly put both your hands on Nero’s right arm in an attempt to prevent him from starting a fight as gently as you could. “Careful! You injured your arm, right? Geez, it’s never going to heal if you keep trying to punch people!” You scolded him, shaking your head. Even if he had it out of the cast now didn’t mean he was fully healed, and while his anger was admittedly rightful, he was being too hard on himself. “Hahah! Yeah, Nero. Wouldn’ wanna hurt yer arm now, would we?” Dante laughed and waved a finger at Nero almost accusingly, and if looks could kill, Dante would have been in a hundred thousand million pieces right now.

 

“Can’t go through a day without the good ole Lester, could ya?” Your boss commented in an attempt to change he topic, which seemed to have worked because Dante had lost his interest in teasing poor Nero whereas he was still living the aftermaths of his anger, flush bright on his cheeks. You chuckled and took a seat on one of the stools next to Nero, a grin on your face. “Nope. You spoiled me too much, now I’m dependent on your focaccias, it’s ridiculous.” You replied humorously and in the meantime Nero faced away from Dante whom you could feel was watching you with his right elbow propped on the bar top and his cheek resting in his palm. “Yer outta luck, ‘s hoagies today. Go fix yourself one in the kitchen.” Your boss replied with a shake of his head and leaned forward with his hands planted firmly on the wooden surface. ‘Go fix yourself one’ meant that he already had everything ready and all you had to do was plate it up. One glance at the clock on the opposite wall, and you had about thirty minutes. You could make it.

 

You hopped off the stool and gave your boss a thumbs up before making your way into the kitchen, your backpack left on the stool. Just as you had expected, he had everything ready, but to you the best sandwich was a generously buttered and grilled one but there seemed to be no need for that given the crusty, crispy bread of the simple yet delicious looking sandwich, so you simply plated it up with your mouth watering and while you were at it, grabbed yourself a glass of orange juice. You took your place back next to Nero after having placed your plate and glass of orange juice on the stool, looking at the male next to you with a smile on your face. Before you left, you wanted to make some small talk with him, having thought about how he was doing during the week didn’t help you at all. “So, how was the business?” You asked Nero, lips pursing, which seemed to get his attention at last because he turned to look at you. “Wait, what do you guys do for a living anyway?”

 

This was a nice opportunity to get a few hints from them and learn in your boss was being truthful about their professions; in an attempt to hide your expressions and have more time to think of a reply to his answer, you took a generous bite of your sandwich, looking back into his eyes. Almost as if the question was directed at the elderly male, Dante answered on his behalf with a shrug of his shoulders. “All kindsa fun. Ain’t nuthin’ like solvin’ puzzles ‘nd havin’ shit thrown yer way, but y’get used to it.” He answered with his ever knowing looks, leaving the harder part for Nero. Solving puzzles? What was that supposed to mean? Having shit thrown his way could be a metaphor for the difficulty of their profession, or so you liked to believe, but what did puzzles have to do with this? In the meantime you swallowed your bite and took another, indicating your interest with a nod of your head and a hum through your mouthful. “Y’could say a private bodyguard… or somethin’.” Nero replied and faced away from you as you thought he was no longer able to withstand your accusing gaze.

 

You couldn’t say he was being truthful with you, but something within you told you that he wasn’t being too secretive and that his answer was pretty close to what they did for a living, your train of thoughts making you wonder whether Nero actually injured his arm during one of their trips instead of falling down like he claimed to have? You sipped your orange juice to help swallow your bite, licking your lips free of the crumbs there. Delicious, yet your mind didn’t seem to be perceiving the taste for all it was. “Sounds so cool, you guys.” You replied and offered a smile to them, one that was crooked and artificial. One day, you thought, one day you would find out this way or another. No one could get away with lying to somebody; even if Nero and Dante were to disappear right now, you’d still find out the truth about them one day; not because you would try to do so, but because the that was how the universe worked. You still didn’t like the idea of Nero being secretive. Maybe you were being irrational, wanting to know him for all he was when you two had met only a month ago, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him once, feeling this weird pull, attraction to him and in the depths of your mind, you knew nothing good would come of it. You also knew that he would be the one to sweep you off your feet; either drag you to heaven or the pits of hell.

 

Your eyes drifted back to the clock on the wall, and you could see you would be late if you wasted any more time. “Whoops, I better get going.” You quickly wrapped the back of the rest of your sandwich so you could hold it easily and devour it on your way and slid off the stool once again, grabbing your backpack. Dante turned to give you his signature two-finger salute and you were about to bid them farewell until an idea struck you. “Wait a second. Nero, are you free today?” You asked him, who seemed to find looking anywhere but at you oh so entertaining. Again, on his behalf Dante replied to your question, earning another piercing glare from his younger companion. “Sure is, why?” It felt much more embarrassing to be addressing Dante instead of Nero, and you kind of wished Nero would say something, but there was no turning back now as you had definitely aroused both their interests because now, Nero also had his eyes glued on you. “Would you like to come with me?” You offered, and Nero’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch and his lips pressed into a tight line, which you took as your cue to explain and reason yourself hastily. “I mean, you don’t have to, but it’s a nice opportunity. You’re new in town and have to work often too, so you couldn’t make a lot of friends, could you?” Your cheeks ended up flushing and palms sweating as you attempted to explain yourself, embarrassing yourself further with each passing second. Ah, maybe you really shouldn’t have—

 

“I wouldn’t…” Nero began, left hand coming up to scratch his nose, gaze still averted from yours. He wouldn’t…? What? Did he think he would be a hindrance to you or did he think he wouldn’t want to spend a say with you and your friends, but mostly you ever? You prayed it wasn’t the latter and tried again, this time as gently as you could, maybe with a quirk of your eyebrows to give it a kicked puppy effect. “I mean, they’re nice people, my friends. It’d be more fun if you, you know, tagged along, they’d love to meet you, Nero.” This seemed to work a little better as he huffed and rubbed his nape before relenting with a sigh and getting up to his feet. The action alone was enough to fill you to the core with happiness. Your friends really wouldn’t mind your bringing someone along, you thought, especially when they could inquire the depths of your relationship and interrogate you. Even if they did, you would find a way to make up to them, unwilling to let this chance go waste. With a large smile on your lips, you watched Nero, thinking it would be worth running a little late, after all.

 

You only took note of the large, black casket that was laid on the other side of the room when he pointed a finger at it and looked at Dante, an eyebrow raised in warning. “Y’better take good care o’her.” This had Dante chuckling in amusement and you wondering the occupant of the casket with burning curiosity. Even if Dante seemed to find the exchange entertaining, Nero was dead serious about not letting any harm come to the contents of the casket. Dante waved his hand away from Nero, shaking his head. “Sheesh, get outta ‘ere, kid.” Nero gave Dante one last warning look before facing you though your eyes were set on the clock one again. Your right hand reached for his left so you could quickly tug him along with you seeing as you would be late if you kept fooling around any longer, only to be rendered speechless.

 

_A man in royal blue stood in absolute glory in the middle of a blinding white and the look in his eyes was cold with a swipe of gentleness to them. It terrified you and rendered you unable to move regardless, for you knew it wasn’t meant for you. His choice of clothing defined the color of his eyes and his locks. Snowy white locks swiped back, plump pink lips, fair complexion. Something about him was so eerily familiar, something you knew so well. Someone. You wanted to close your eyes and reach for him, you wanted to find comfort in his touch. You wanted to— Nero. No… Dante? After a moment of silence, the man in blue parted his mouth to ask him. “Can you hear it, the cry of a soul?” The man asked. Asked who? Then you saw him, impaled to the nothingness, completely still, with a gigantic sword piercing through his chest. Snowy white locks framing his features. Under both his arms were swords even bigger. One human. And one… One… What was that, his right arm? Burgundy, his palm turquoise, the cracks of blue disturbing the inhuman skin. “What is your soul saying?” The man in blue asked once again, but you couldn’t look away from the one impaled, bleeding out, painting the white a deep crimson. ‘What’s yours?’ The man lifted his head to look at the other. Nero. It was Nero. Nero. You knew this; his voice, his face. Nero. “Power.” The man in blue replied. “I want more power.” Nero looked at the man in blue for a few moments before dropping his head back, red dripping from his lips. ‘I’ll take that too, then.’_

By the time you came back to your senses, your trembling hands went ice cold, one within Nero’s, who was looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed in concern, his lips moving to form your name. You could faintly hear his voice echoing in the back of your mind, calling out to you once again like the one in your dream, asking whether you were okay and saying that you had gone ghostly pale in a matter of seconds. You, on the other hand, pulled your hand away from his so quickly that it left him puzzled and maybe a little hurt, you didn’t know how you knew; you just did. He gave you a funny look at your rude gesture even though you weren’t looking at him at all and had your eyes fixed on the wooden floor, you knew; however you couldn’t quite perceive the consequences of your action in the heat of the moment. Your throat felt dry, as if you had sandpaper for dinner, and you feared your voice wouldn’t come out if you spoke. So you looked up at Nero and stood there with your lips parted, no sound leaving them. The same face. The same voice. The man in blue, the same face. You felt like throwing up.

 

You realized that Dante had gotten up and was standing next to you, face void of its usual playfulness. Things started to make more sense as you remembered that you were in the bar. Lester and Dante were looking at you in concern, and Nero was right next to you. Your daze must have piqued the interest of the few customers, because they had their eyes on you too. Once you could hear again, you became vaguely aware of something wet rolling down your nose. “Hey, hey, kiddo—” Was Dante talking to you, or Nero? _(You.)_ A hand reached out for you _(Dante’s)_ and swiped your nose, a hand firmly grasping your shoulder. _(You were bleeding.)_

 

_“Foolishness, Dante. Foolishness. Might controls everything and without strength, you cannot protect anything, let alone yourself.” The same man from earlier, standing. This time it wasn’t all white, it was raining. You could feel yourself getting wet with each drop falling on your frame, the cold breeze making a shiver run down your spine. His swept-back hair no longer maintained its shape under the rain and framed his face, fell on his forehead, wet strands and rouge hair on his wet skin. In front of him, another one. Same hair. Same height. Just on his knees, and in red. A sword, almost as tall as him. Pierced through his chest. Left standing was the one in blue. The brother in blue. They’re twins. ‘Vergil…’ The one in red. Dante. Managed helplessly. Vergil. That was right, how could you have forgotten? His name was Vergil, born 17 minutes prior to his twin; Dante. …To whom? You thought you knew the names, the two names that were… were what?_

Your breathing had quickened as you were pulled into another dream that felt so real, yet was a dream. Were you going insane? There was no way that man could have been Dante, standing on top of a tower with a gigantic sword piercing through his chest as the Dante you knew was standing right here, in front of you now. _(You knew he was.)_ There was no way he could have possibly survived that. _(You knew he did.)_ Vergil… It would make sense, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the two of them apart had you not seen him before. Where? _(With Nero.)_ Nero. Impossible. To be pinned to the wall by yet another gigantic sword, left there to bleed out, only to appear in front of you without a scratch? _(What about his arm?)_ It didn’t make sense, he had just broken it, hadn’t he? To actually believe he would be keeping an… inhuman arm from others sounded just all kind of absurd. _(It’s—)_ No. No, it wasn’t true. You had just had a moment, it was all. That was right, you were just overwhelmed for a brief second and your brain speculated a legend. _(That’s right, Dante, he’s a le—)_ Stop. No. No. No, you couldn’t breathe—

 

A merciless slap to your back, and you could breathe again. You inhaled generously, eyes closed. Someone was gently cooing right next to your ear _(Lester)_ and someone was eerily quiet _(Dante)_ and someone was so worried that you could feel it palpable on your skin, nudging and prodding at you, wanting answers you didn’t know and couldn’t give if you tried. _(Nero)_ “I’m alright, I’m alright— Boss man, really.” You surprised yourself at how evenly your voice resonated in your ears. “I just got a little dizzy, is all.” No, no that wasn’t the case at all. “It just happens sometimes, you know?” No, something like that had never happened before. Never, until… _(Until you touched them; Nero and Dante. You had never done so before.)_ “I’ll— I’ll just—” You gently pushed Dante’s supporting hand from your shoulder and Nero out of the way so you could make your way towards the restroom. “I’ll just go wash my face.” You said and walked to the restroom to do just that, shake yourself out of this mess, come back to your senses and maybe to wake up. Had you gone insane? That just made no sense, unless you had gone bat shit insane and that was the reason why you started seeing things all of a sudden. Once inside, you closed the door and leaned against it, heaving a sigh. You walked to stand in front of the sink and look at yourself in the mirror, leaving your trembling hands on the marble. You looked as if you had just seen a ghost; your face was alarmingly pale to the point it made your lips look red in comparison. You could see a faint trail from your nose running down to your lips. Your nose bled earlier, and Dante had wiped it off.

 

You looked at your reflection for a few more minutes until you decided it was high time you shrugged this off as an unpleasant dream and shook your head in a vain attempt to forget what you just experienced, turning on the faucet to wash your hands and wet your cheeks, your neck, your nape and exposed right arm. The cool water on your skin made you feel refreshed _(and reminded you of the rain earlier)_ and you thought you could go through the day once again. You made sure to smile as you left the restroom and three pair of eyes were immediately on you. Lester was knowing, Dante was cautious, almost as if he were observing your behavior for any suspicious behavior. The one that hit you the most was Nero’s; the way his eyebrows were furrowed and an expression of concern marred his fair features made your stomach turn unpleasantly, almost mad at yourself for making him worry like that, and the fact that he cared enough about you to make that face made the hair on your arms stand. “What’s with the faces, you guys?” You asked with a faint chuckle once you were standing in front of them, color slowly coming back to your cheeks. “Told you I was fine, that happens when seasons change. I’ve always been physically weak.” You offered and coyly brushed a stray lock behind your ear. Dante had aged, you noted, he looked nothing like he used to. Right, because it wasn’t Dante and you were delusional. “Do you still want to come, Nero?”

 

Nero looked determined now, and you felt this determination ignite a flame of passion within you. The need to protect him, the need to keep him safe even though you neither had anything to protect him from nor any strength to fight for him. The suddenness of your emotions left you baffled. _(These are his, not yours.)_ What do you— “Yeah, let’s go.” Nero said and placed his left hand on your back to lead you out of the bar, turning back to glance at Dante and Lester for a moment. The second you felt the pressure of his palm on your back, the safer you felt all of a second, your chest warming. That’s right, it meant nothing to you; all those dreams you had all of a sudden. There was no way Nero could be hiding something, everyone had things they wanted to hide but never something so grand. His touch was that of an angel’s, not one capable of destruction. The gentle pressure on your back was reassuring, not terrifying. The way he looked at you earlier was of concern, not bloodthirsty and destructive. His words from your dream rung in your ears helplessly. No, that was wrong, too. Even if he wanted more power, even if he desired more strength; of what you didn’t know, it would be to create something better, not unleash calamity on what was already perfect. Even if one day, you were to go insane…

 

Maybe, just maybe, he would be your anchor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More will be revealed soon enough. I would like to thank all of you for your comments, your feedback makes me want to continue writing this story and do my best.


	8. one day;

_Maybe, just maybe, he would be your anchor._

 

Anaon, the glorious, untouched moon of the ice hells of Irkalla, taunting frosts and demons cursed to reside in ice from its place up the heavens where it only slightly touched the spiritual barrier separating their world from the humans’. It was a source of pure and utter beauty and a thing of admiration due to its uniqueness and magical nature, made up of nothing but unfrozen water in the coldest past of hell, Irkalla; made up of oceans in which lived ice maidens whose beauty was rivaled by no other being alive and who could be seen swimming in the depths of the water sphere from thousands feet below, flowers that smelled like no other that were in colors nobody had the pleasure of seeing before. It even had its own sun, much tinier in comparison, which got its source of energy from the ice maidens living deep within the transparent moon. Anaon, as unique as it was, had been subjected to many tales told by elder beings for many years. The most common one was that it had long ago been conquered by a demon aged five hundred thousand years, named Oriax who no longer resided in the deepest part of the entire ice hells of the demon world and declared he would eliminate those who tried to harm the helpless humans residing above the Anaon from his place there, and though no one had any reason whatsoever to believe that as Oriax had never been seen before, everyone had taken and accepted him as the ‘Defender of Anaon’. The only way to confirm whether Oriax had really existed or not was to ask the fairies of Anaon who were as old was the moon was, and one could only dream of doing so.

 

It was no rumor that the human world and Anaon had a unique connection; the barest of brushes between Anaon and the human world resulted in its sun warming up and shining brighter than ever almost as if it had been touched by life itself; giving it an enchanting orange hue, piquing the wonders of those beneath it to no avail as they could only admire its beauty from afar for fear that they would be wiped out by Oriax of the Anaon. Until one day, an angel that had long ago fallen from glory and grace of the forgiving heavens due to committing one of the seven deadly sins, greed, and so had been cursed with an heinous appearance to live an eternity as a despised demon being in the coldest part of hell, stepped foot inside the ice hells of Irkalla. How odious she was; with her eight claw-like limbs sharper than any other metal on earth poking out from her rounded, steel skin, ugly, hairy appearance, sclera void of color and irises glowing menacingly an ominous red. No longer glorious she might have been, but she possessed something no other had in the ice hells; starvation to have it all, to claim that unrivaled beauty of Anaon and destroy its magnificence as her nimbus had been done so, as her beauty had been taken away from her so.

 

Whereas the local creatures residing in ice hells were envious of the moon and its fearless conqueror, the creature was so jealous of it that she left permanent scratch marks on her own steel skin. Whereas the demons chose to admire it from afar and try to illustrate the human world from the brief glances and peeks they got every so often, the ominous fallen angel wanted the moon and what laid beyond for herself, loss and ignominy aflame at her core. The hideous creature called herself the ‘Arachne of Anaon’ and declared she would, one day, conquer the moon. No one believed the creature, for many honorable fighters tried in vain before it had, those who were much stronger, older and experienced than she was, but had been slayed mercilessly by the invisible sword of Oriax as he had promised two thousand years ago when he first declared Anaon as his territory and possession. Arachne called those who warned her naively fools and eliminated those who stood in her way so it would be a lesson to those left in an attempt to prove her cruelty and ambition. She called those who defended Oriax disrespectful dogs and claimed Oriax did what he had for fear that he would be slayed by the traitor Dark Knight Sparda who betrayed his own kind and brother to favor weak and helpless humans, having fallen from glory himself due to his own weakness; another human and the twins that human gave birth to. Irkalla grew colder each day with Arachne’s tormenting. Soon she had laid her children everywhere and conquered Irkalla, dominated every single place left and every single anarchic being with utter terror and display of power, except for the glorious Anaon. Children of Arachne, who took the advantage of its closeness to the human world where they unleashed calamity and killed hundreds of people in a matter of days, lent their power to her on her quest to conquer the moon. They, however, weren’t the only ones who wandered to the human world. Lost their way, humans found themselves trapped in Irkalla’s cold, merciless embrace more often than not, where they could never be found ever due to Arachne’s unrivaled oppression and domination.

 

So was the tale apparently told when Dante’s hunter friend, Lady, barged into the shop one day to recruit the both of them; to locate and eliminate this Arachne and all her demon children as they posed a great danger to the part of the town named after the Irkalla’s moon Anaon. There had been hundreds of deaths already due to their unrelenting display of aggression in the area although only ten percent of the actual number had been reported on the news, which was only because there had been eyewitnesses on each case, otherwise the government would have done its best concealing the inhumane killings they could not comprehend or explain to anyone. Oriax was nowhere to be found, some even said he fled out of his fear. When the police was useless, was when they had the stage all to themselves, so Dante said, after having so rudely interrupted your ‘brunch date’ the other day, so they could take care of the task Lady assigned to them and make some money at last to pay the bills and the debts Dante owed to pretty much everyone. It resulted in their disappearance for nearly a week. Dante had talked to Lester to find more about the legend as you and Nero were dining, and as Dante explained on their way to Anaon; the legends were true. The feared human-friendly demon conqueror Oriax actually existed and lived in Anaon, whose whereabouts Lester couldn’t share as he was bound by the seal of secrecy and loyalty to Oriax, leaving them to find Oriax on their own.

 

At first, it sounded easy enough to Nero given he approached the situation at hand rather grimly since he had been enjoying the time he spent with you before Dante so rudely made himself in and dragged him out by the collar. Find the scary looking old-ass demon among helpless humans, apparently not loving enough to defend the humans in the area as he had been told. But their quest proved him wrong; against the best of their efforts, Oriax was nowhere to be found. Dante thought they could start by locating the natural hellgate opening to Anaon of Irkalla, after all eliminating the danger at its source always proved useful and all they had to do was to get in a tough fight with this spider-chick; however, neither of them were able to do so for the gate was concealed professionally by old shamanist spells they could neither detect nor override by any means, in a way of protection. Apparently the Oriax old-man couldn’t have humans wandering to the demon realm and vice versa, so he sealed it with life source. So they spent their time visiting the houses of the victims in an attempt to find something, anything that would help them trace back to Arachne; however those who chose to open the door to them only either told them to piss off or run away before those things came back after them. No further details were provided by anyone, at all, they must have been scared shitless by whatever they had seen. While it couldn’t exactly be called a success, they managed to eliminate a few of those so-called children on their way back, children only a mother could love, he thought. So, they had to look for the ugly demons with eight heads and eight sharp limbs and kick their asses. Other than that, they pretty much knew nothing and had to come back empty-handed.

 

The act of shrugging something so big off in the way Dante had made him uneasy given how Arachne posed a great danger to the locals – you, he thought bitterly, who apparently had to visit there frequently for supplies – and they couldn’t have that, could they? Dante waved him off when he voiced his concerns and told him that they would eventually have to show their faces if Arachne truly wanted to conquer Anaon and what laid beyond, the human world, and they could slay them when the time came. After all the evil plans never worked as originally intended. He didn’t know what Dante had been thinking when he shrugged him off like that as even though he still knew very little regarding Dante, he could see that it didn’t seem to be like him in the slightest. Perhaps it was his way of handling things, because he spent the first day digging through his collection of devil arms and dusty books and on the second day of their arrival, Dante had hauled him back to Bulls Eye Pizzeria to discuss the details of the legendary creature and that so called conqueror Oriax who didn’t even show his face. Having a legendary dark knight for a father made him think twice about legends, Nero thought. Just as he was talking about how they couldn’t even detect the presence of an old and mighty being in the area let alone track him down, find him and convince him to work together to defend his territory, the bell clicked softly against the door as it opened and you came in, looking nothing like he had seen you before.

 

As you neared, he was unable to tear his eyes away from you, no matter how indecent it was of him to check you out so shamelessly and how unruly his thoughts seemed to be at the sight of your nearing, he made no attempts at trying to stop himself from gaping, his blue orbs widening in awe. Your locks had been carefully brushed prior to your arrival and pasted elegantly, they looked silky and clean under the sunlight. The way you had done your makeup was enchanting, its simplicity did nothing to hinder your beauty if not highlight your features; the mascara you wore on your lashes making them appear black and longer than they were as they defined the color of your eyes, your cheeks were left slightly pink either due to natural sources or the blush you might have applied on professionally, he wasn’t quite sure. The dress you wore left both of your shoulders exposed though the left one was covered loosely by the sleeve of your dress, a slit running down from your shoulder strap to your bicep where it revealed more of your milky skin. The pastel pink fabric ended just over your knees and left the skin of your calves exposed, granting him with brief flashes of skin over your knees as you made your way over to where they were seated at the bar with Dante. Lester had said you weren’t coming in today when they both arrived and he was quite disappointed by your absence, so why were you here? More importantly, had you heard anything you weren’t supposed to?

 

Dante turned in his seat when he saw you and whistled like a wolf, which made him want to punch him just for looking at you the same way he had, though that burning need was quickly extinguished by his sexual comments relating you and him and a lack of clothes, leaving him in discomfort for an entirely different reason. The flush on your cheeks seemed to darken with Dante’s words, feeling like a sharp knife in his guys once again, this time the sight felt bitter in his mouth as you displayed such coyness due to Dante’s words, rendering him useless as you often had so effortlessly. You soon revealed the noble cause of your arrival and in the meantime, he was left a flustered mess where he was sitting, unable to look at you let alone meet your eyes and say he was happy to see you. So you were going out with friends? It suddenly dawned on him. That was right, just like he had, you had a life outside this place; you had a family you were part of, maybe brothers and sisters he never even knew of before, you had a group of friends which you were a part of, you had a place in life unlike he and you were studying to be a productive member of the society, he recalled you to be a university student which meant one day you would go your own way and that you wouldn’t be stuck working in a place like this for the rest of your life. You would go somewhere else, you would obtain a profession and you would meet with new people every day. One day, you would meet someone who would sweep you off your feet and make you fall in love; you would get married and have kids. Even if you seemed to have developed a small infatuation with him like he hoped, you would get over it quickly when you left and maybe even forget that he existed. You would have grandchildren and die a happy death; without ever knowing demons existed or knowing that the two weird, out of place guys you knew back at a place called Devil May Cry were ones too.

 

The thought was enough to make him grow uncharacteristically quiet in your presence, making him glue his piercing glare on the wooden surface rather than meet your eyes or engage in the conversation. He barely even heard Lester warn Dante and he that this was a matter up for later discussion given your unforeseen arrival. Perhaps he was in the same place, and it was his affection for you that clouded his judgment and made him so sour about the thought of your living a happily-ever-after without him instead of being glad that you would never get involved with the kinds of him and live and die a normal death unlike them. Normality was something he couldn’t give you no matter how hard he tried, and if he were being honest with himself, he didn’t want to quit what he had been doing for so long. He wanted to try and make this world a better place, he wanted to help those who couldn’t help themselves. He thought it was a primitive instinct to be selfish and want to have it all regardless of who or what you were.

 

So he found himself unable to say anything but yes to your offer when you so kindly asked whether he would like to tag along since he was relatively new in the town and it was likely that he didn’t know and have a lot of people he could spend some quality time with; even though he had an idea how awkward he would feel being the semi-antisocial friend who only knew one person in the group and so could do nothing other than following that one person around helplessly. Dante must have seen through his initial doubt because he encouraged him albeit crudely, resulted in his accepting your offer after all, which must have pleased you as you had reached for his hand with a newly-found enthusiasm to drag him out of the bar so you could meet up with your friends, only to halt in your steps. He could feel your fingers going lack around his and hand going colder as you stood still with your widened orbs glued to the wooden floor. He could only watch and call your name helplessly as the color drained from your face. It concerned Dante all the same when a drop of red trailed down your left nostril so he dropped the carefree act and came to stand next to him to see the cause of your distress; both of them unknowing of what action to take next. The life that sparked within your eyes was gone as soon as it came when Dante reached out for you to wipe the blood running down your nose, orbs going unfocused once again; almost as if you were not quite there.

 

When you managed to snap out of whatever daze you were in, you snatched your hand away from his almost as if it had been burned, which made his gut twist uncomfortably as he realized how much he liked the feeling of your soft hand in his calloused palm only after you had moved it away, an emotion he couldn’t quite mask as professionally as he would have liked to, given your uncertain condition. You did your best trying to reassure them in your daze though he could clearly see that you were still taken aback by whatever that happened and excused yourself to go wash your face. He only turned back to look at Dante once you have safely made it to the restroom and closed the door behind you, only to see the elder male giving your boss a strict look, one that Lester seemed troubled by, an action Nero found odd since he had nothing to hide about you… did he? Dante seemed as determined as he was to get some answers from Lester, though before they could interrogate him thoroughly, the door opened and you came in with your face looking somewhat brighter and footing more stable, a fake-looking smile plastered on your features to reassure them that everything was fine, he realized.

 

You asked him whether he was ready to leave after having reassured that you had only gotten dizzy and that was something that occurred at least once before if not frequently, and he felt readier than ever with whatever little doubt he had from before completely gone, this time encouraged by the need to keep you safe from… whatever it was that baffled you and left you standing there and bleeding. He would find out if he had to. He placed his left arm on the small of your back and guided you out of the bar, though not before glancing back to give Dante a knowing look, icy blue orbs lit with determination. ‘Find out whatever that was even if you have to ream him a new asshole,’ he thought, and the male gave him a thumbs up and a quirk of lips almost as if he could read his mind.

 

“Sure yer okay?” Nero asked once you have gotten out of the Residential Area where both the bar you worked and Devil May Cry was located, hand still on the small of your back to make sure you didn’t fall as he could see your steps were still somewhat sloppy even if you didn’t notice. You looked up at him and he saw how the color came back to your cheeks and made you look lively once again, your cheeks reddened at his words of concern even further, making him wonder whether you were embarrassed by the display of concern. Admittedly, he hadn’t been able to reassure himself that everything would be fine and he was almost certain that you could see the worry marring his face; however he had good reason to fret over you. You might have waved them off claiming it to be something casual, though you seemed as surprised by your nose bleeding as they were. Whatever that happened, it was likely that you didn’t have much clue either. Regardless, a smile stretched your glossed lips as you looked into his icy blue orbs, your right hand coming to plant itself on his left bicep which he took as his cue to drop his hand back to his side even if a brief regret passed your features. “I’m sure, Nero. Told you, I just got dizzy for a moment.” You turned your head away from his to look forward, and he could see the way the corner of your lips tugged down once again, making him confirm that it was bothering you too. He thought it would be the best for the both of you to drop it; given how enthusiastic you seemed to be to spend a day with your friends whom he assumed you hadn’t seen for a while during your break.

 

“Well, lemme know if y’feel… y’know, dizzy again or somethin’, yeah?” Nero offered with a shrug and watched the way your shoulders shook silently in amusement before you looked upat him with an eyebrow raised, glad to have the topic changed and back as your usual self. “Should say the same about you. Your arm healed yet?” Ah, right. Whenever you saw him, he had his right demonic arm hoisted up in a cast to give it the illusion of being injured. As he hadn’t been expecting to engage in any social activities with people who didn’t know his origin today, which included seeing you, he didn’t bother and simply wore a leather glove on his right hand to conceal the unnatural way his skin curved. You naturally thought he had broken his arm, which he confirmed by saying that he had fallen down when he escorted you to Anaon before. This could get ugly if he let this go on any further, however given the light nature of the small talk you were having, he decided he would reply nonchalantly. “They say I heal pretty fast.” He raised an eyebrow almost as if challenging you to claim otherwise though a smile could vaguely be seen on his lips, making you shake your head. “Alright, alright. Don’t get to worry about the big, tough guy, got it.” You said and looked back at him with an eyebrow raised. “Then again, you said you fell down the stairs and broke it, so I’m not sure what to think.”

 

“Had t’do with the stairs, not me.” Nero replied, which earned him a chuckle. Rest of the walk to the city center was spent in comfortable silence, though both of you subconsciously stepped closer to each other, resulting in the back of your hands brushing against each other every so often, an action that made him look away in an attempt to conceal the red he could feel dusting his fair complexion, right hand coming up to swipe his nose for no reason other than it being a habitual gesture for him in face of embarrassment. Something in him encouraged him to just take your hand in his and lock your fingers together, however he was not yet ready to blur the line between you as you had so sharply defined it when you pulled your hand from his in something that resembled horror and disbelief earlier, which made him approach the idea reluctantly. He decided against it though, and you seemed content with the way things were, and you only reached for the sleeve of his long coat to tug it and attract his attention when you located your friends in the crowd and you held your index finger in their direction to show him. “There they are! Let’s go!” The idea of being involved with people he didn’t know left him tasteless yet still obediently following you, as it was a little too late to back out now since he got ahead of himself to be the hero and decided he would escort you when you got dizzy, not because he was a little too eager to make new friends who were a part of your group.

 

As you two walked closer to the others, he took in their appearances. Two females, the one on the left looked slightly taller than the one on the right because of the heels she wore and had long brunette locks that reached to her waist whereas the one on the right had short hair that had been dyed to a light turquoise and tied into short ponytails on either side of her head, stood next to a much shorter-looking Asian male who wore thick glasses and had his head shaved which made it shine brightly under the sunlight. They seemed surprised that you brought company, him, which you didn’t seem to mind at all and indeed ushered him closer. Regardless, when you crossed the street to get to them, the brunette called your name loudly in happiness and wrapped her arms around you almost immediately, making you take a few steps back as you returned the gesture. The turquoise head, whose name he later learned to be Kat joined in on your hug with the brunette called Beth by wrapping her arms around you from behind, only to let go of the two of you to chase away the bald Asian, Kamiya, who very cleverly attempted to press himself against Kat from behind. She was having none of his acts though and quickly silenced him by abusing him quite physically, though the bald Asian seemed used to the treatment; if he didn’t know any better he would say he even enjoyed the physical contact it granted him. During the havoc of your meeting, he noted the way all of your friends carried their instruments with them.

 

He didn’t go unnoticed by your friends for long though, the brunette seemed to be especially cunning because he was all over him, violating his personal space the second she laid eyes on him, teasing the both of you by asking you when you got a boyfriend and how come they knew nothing of it for so long. You seemed to be beet red being subjected to the relentless teasing of your friend and only chided her by telling her not to make Nero any more uncomfortable. Your friend, on the other hand, seemed to be quite endeared by your reaction seeing as to how on your way, she kept poking fun at the two of you by saying that you should walk next to each other and hold hands so Nero wouldn’t get lost, you should sit in the same booth so you could get ‘freaky’ under the table while they were completely oblivious to your naught, you should share straws since you two would be quite used to frenching each other now… At some point, instead of flustering him any further, her remarks started ticking him off seeing as to how bashful you seemed to get whenever words regarding the two of you left her lips, leaving you looking smaller and ashamed to the point you couldn’t meet his eyes without averting your gaze the very next second in emphasized shame. It seemed to bother Kat too, because unbeknownst to your brunette friend she kept glaring at him whenever she mentioned the two of your being together and intimate. You might have been friends, he didn’t know how close, and you might have been okay with her relentless teasing regardless of how you reacted to it, however that didn’t mean he had to reciprocate them, growing more annoyed by second.

 

When the five of you decided it would be a good idea to sit down and share some drinks before going on your way to have some fun on the streets, he ended up indeed taking a seat next to you and drawing the left arm he casually slung over the back of the booth around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him, an action that surprised everyone and had you looking up at him in confusion. “Yeah.” He said, eyebrows drawn into a deep furrow, one that was blatantly warning. “We’re a thing, so back off.” His exclamation left his stomach turning in anxiety and you speechless, though it seemed to successfully silence the noisy friend of yours and left the turquoise head relatively upset. The rest of the conversation was focused on your education and internships. You discussed what you would like to do in the future. Your brunette friend Beth studied gastronomy and culinary arts and declared she would be the greatest chef of all times all the while being fashionable and having manicured nails, which left Nero wondering whether she would succeed surpassing your unmatched abilities in the kitchen. The turquoise head called Kat was apparently a law student and wanted to be a lawyer that would make a change in this ‘corrupt system’. It wasn’t too hard to see she was a punk by looking at her appearance which mainly consisted of chains and ripped black clothing, she seemed to be the quiet one and he briefly thought that in some other universe at some other time, maybe they could have been considered similar; however her dreams seemed too far-fetched to Nero. You either wanted to build a system and be the one on top or bring it down all together while leaving nothing behind, there was nothing in the middle that you could do, which was what she said she would do. Though your friend seemed determined to achieve that. The bald Asian was apparently studying to be a game designer; he turned out to be the weirdest of you all, though apparently he was also the smartest since he said he had been working on a new and independent project, one whose designs were done exclusively and all by him, and that it would be completed by the end of the year.

 

He learned more about you, too; that you originally planned to study something else but later enrolled to linguistics and translation and mingled with ancient languages like Latin and Enochian a lot, that you would be graduating in a month and that you had been having interviews with a soft drinks company called Abraxas which wanted to expand their reach beyond overseas and would require your help in doing so. You would soon quit your job at Bulls Eye and start working in Abraxas, which would give you the chance to move to a bigger city that would present you with way more opportunities since you needed to expand and be in touch with other people in your line of work. He learned that you could also work as a translator for attorneys, and you jokingly said that when one day Kat made a good attorney, you would work for her from time to time. Your friend, on the other hand, seemed to have adopted the idea already, and talked about how you two could live in the same apartment if that really happened. How excited she seemed to be when talking about a future with you made him realize that this friend in particular might have been interested in you as more than just friends though you seemed to remain oblivious to her affections, making him eye her suspiciously, almost challengingly to occupy the center of your affections. Even if he claimed to be your ‘boyfriend’, she didn’t seem too bothered by the idea of it. For the rest of the meal, his arm remained around your shoulders and much to his felicity, not only did you not mind but also inched closer to him.

 

Although he didn’t necessarily participate in the conversation or had any desire to be a part of it, he seemingly had no other choice since everyone, including you, looked at him curiously when Kamiya asked what he did for a living and where he came from. It wasn’t too hard to realize not all people were as considerate as you when it came to topics like those. He rubbed the back of his nape and looked to right before briefly explaining that he came from an Island called Fortuna and had been a part of an organization that worked for the church which used to rule the city before coming here. Although he seemed content to stop there, Beth asked what that organization was this time and what exactly it did. He attempted to quickly change the topic by saying that it had something to do with the city’s traditions and that he was ‘something like a bodyguard for hire’ at the moment. Though it made you look up at him suspiciously with an eyebrow raised almost as if you were contemplating whether he was being truthful or not, it made Beth chuckle and say that he would have to be with all the muscles he built up. He found his way out when Kamiya whined and exclaimed loudly that he didn’t even have hair let alone any muscles and he was only in his mid-twenties. You all shared laughs with the exception of him who only cracked a smile now and then, finished your drinks and decided to leave.

 

When you two found a good spot where you would attract attention and not disturb anyone against a wall, he watched you settle. Beth was a ukulele player, and Kamiya apparently played the flute. Kat, on the other hand, turned out to play a rectangular prism whose name he didn’t even know. While Beth was checking its chords and Kat unpacking her cuboid, you looked around in your bag for your egg shakers, explaining to him you couldn’t play anything else and those were ‘handy’. He didn’t get your play of words until Kamiya laughed at your lame joke, pleasing you. You were settled sooner than expected though, with Kat seated on her instrument whose name he later learned to be choja, you in front and Beth and Kamiya on either side, and he ended up leaning against the wall on the back and crossing his arms over his chest, keeping his distance from your group. You took your time adjusting to each other’s pace and slowly fell into a rhythm; he closed his eyes to listen to the music you produced and found it to be rather enjoyable much to his surprise. What he had a hard time believing was the sound that came out of your mouth when your lips moved the form the syllables of the song you were singing, though.

 

_“I once kneeled in shaking thrill,  
I chase the memory of it still, of every chill…”_

 

It made a shiver run down his spine and the very tune of your voice forced him to open his eyes and set them on your frame, finding your eyes closed as you concentrated on creating something so wonderful, it made him contemplate whether it was really you singing.

 

 _“Chided by that silence of a hush sublime,_  
Blind to the purpose of the brute divine,  
But you were mine.”

 

You continued, almost as if you truly wanted to prove him wrong. As you continued, he felt the hairs on his left human arm and on his back stand, irritating him, making him grow cold as your voice warmed him from within and took him to placed he didn’t know existed, reminding him of back home, where Kyrie would sing on Sunday mornings.

_“Staring in the blackness at some distant star,  
The thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are.”_

 

This was different, however. You weren’t singing a song composed to praise the legendary dark knight Sparda, the savior of Fortuna Island and the demon its people came to worship as a god. You were singing one of love, admiration having dominated your chords, almost as if you composed the song yourself, almost as if you were opening up your heart to the one that you loved and praised.

_“To the wild and to the both of us,  
I confessed the longing I was dreaming of,”_

 

With his ice blue orbs on your frame, your left hand moving to contribute to the rhythm of the song you sang, he felt himself take a deep breath and hold it in his chest for fear that his exhale would hinder the purity of your voice; though it seemed to be stronger than that and he felt it ringing in the back of his consciousness; memorizing it, the lyrics, you as you sang it.

 

 _“Some better love, but there's no better love,_  
Beckons above me and there's no better love,  
That ever has loved me, there's no better love…  
Darling, feel better love,  
Feel better love…”

He found himself baffled. You were right, everything you said; there was no better love than a love in which he fell to love you to the hells and heavens and beyond. There was no better love than that had ever loved him, than that of yours, than you.

 

_“And I've never loved a darker blue,  
Than the darkness I have known in you, own from you…”_

 

He would go through hell back and forth before he tainted you with the darkness he had been born with, that of burned him from inside out and that of burdened him with something more than he could carry. Would you still love him then, once you have seen how dark the blue he touched got?

 

 _“You, whose heart would sing of anarchy,_  
You would laugh at meanings, guarantees, so beautifully.  
When our truth is burned from history,”

 

As his eyes closed again, he found himself selfishly wanting to be the center of the lyrics you sang, wanted them to be meant for him, to have been composed for him; he wanted you to sing them to him every day as he went to sleep and he found himself wanting to wake up to your voice; to your disheveled morning hair, to your morning voice and to your welcoming embrace.

 

 _“By those who figured justice in fond memory, witness me…_  
Like fire weeping from a cedar tree,  
Know that my love would burn with me.  
We'll live eternally…”

 

He wanted those lyrics to be the confirmation of your acceptance, he wanted to be all your metaphors and your muse, he wanted everything you could offer to him and a little more. In turn, he would devote himself to you, dare not utter one another’s name within your vicinity out of his love and respect for you. His love would burn with him and bring him down on his knees to his demise, and he would accept it with open arms.

_“Cause there's no better love,_  
That beckons above me, there's no better love,  
That ever has loved me, there's no better love,  
So darling, feel better love…”

 

He would reload his gun for you and swing his sword for you. Maybe one day, he would reveal his arm and he would buster away those who dared to lay a hand on you, those who were brave enough to harm a strand of your hair, challenging enough to stand in his way in the wake of his anger and face of his wrath.

 

“ _Cause there's no better love…_  
That's laid beside me, there's no better love,  
That justifies me, there's no better love,  
So darling, darling, feel better love,  
Feel better love…”  
  


Your words marked the end of the song and he heard a loud clapping noise coming from the people that crowded around you in the meantime something which he hadn’t even noticed as he was too busy being moved by the song you sang and your voice like a fallen leaf being swept aside by the wind in the autumn. Your voice was enchanting, he never thought it would affect him the way it had and leave him helplessly drowning in his thought like that. He never realized he yearned for your touch and your presence next to his to this extent until he was left alone in his own thoughts, making him wonder how come he could feel so intensely for someone he had known for such a short amount of time? He felt almost as if he had known you forever, almost as if you had been with him long enough to know every aspect of him and accept every single little thing about him and every single thing that dreaded other people including himself; from the way he didn’t like the taste of coffee to the way his arm was shaped into one of a demon’s, from the way he would rather sleep on his stomach to the way he swung his sword with confidence and fought to protect those whom he cherished, from the way he looked at you to the way he would hold you if you were his woman. He didn’t believe himself to be deserving of such ecstasy as your being his and his being yours; however is consciousness seemed to start losing its incessant battle against his heart, making him believe that he could indeed have a future with you if he fought hard enough for you; making him believe that your heart was big enough to embrace both the man he was and the demon he carried within himself. Foolish to be attracted to someone like this, like you, so beyond his control and reach where his options were left limited. He couldn’t help it. There was no way he could help himself, he figured.

 __  
“Feel better love…  
Feel better love...  
Feel better love…”

Your words kept playing in his head even when you started singing a new song; completely different from the one you started with, cheerful and happy. You seemed to arouse the interests of those around you, and he found his eyes set firmly on you as you encouraged everyone else who couldn’t stand still to dance and clap their hands, to sing along with you, to play along with you. You reminded him of radiating sunlight then, worming your way into the hearts of those around you and warming them from inside out, making them cast the worries of life and responsibilities aside for a brief moment to have fun and muster enough energy to go through the day. How he knew so well was beyond him; perhaps you made him feel the same in a sense, though he found himself moved by you, found himself deceived for a brief second that he could be someone else; someone who didn’t hunt demons for a living. Would you be okay with that? If he were to tell you that he was not a human and he was in fact a demon people dreaded, like the ones written in legends, like the one worshipped in the city he came from, like those myths you could bring yourself to believe; what would you do? Would you cast him out? Would you run away screaming in absolute horror? Would you flee the country for fear that he would come after you and hunt you? Would you tell him to tell more about himself? Would you tell him that it was okay? Would you tell him that you were okay with who he was for you knew as well as he did that he would never dare think of harming you, ever? He found himself wanting to find out more than ever and wanting not to find out ever at the same time.

 

At some point, you coaxed him into standing next to you, your left hand in his gloved right one, your fingers entangled with each other. He felt guilty that he was tricking you into believing him to be someone, something he was not and that you would probably never hold his hand had you known what it really looked like, but it was quickly washed away when you smiled up at him so brightly that he thought he couldn’t breathe anymore. As the sun slowly set and the remaining sunlight painted the blue skies in an orange hue, you were done and exhausted from having sung all day long, yet absolutely happy. He had never seen you smile brighter than then, your pearly white teeth were out as you grinned and laughed heartily with your friends. After all this time, your hand remained in his, until the time to bid your friends farewell came. From Beth to Kamiya, you gave all of them big and warm hugs, patted and rubbed their backs, pressed your cheek against their shoulders. It made him crave one from you, and he thought maybe you would hug him the same one day. Whether to confirm his thoughts or to soothe the demons swirling through his consciousness, your left hand found his once again as you stood there with him and waved your friends goodbye, watching them leave.

 

“Today was a good day, don’t you think?” You asked him some time later on the way to your apartment as he insisted he would feel better knowing you arrived at home safely, moving your entwined hands back and forth with your steps. You looked lively, better than ever, your sour mood and pale face from afternoon having long gone. “Yeah.” He found himself agreeing with you as he looked down at you, a boyish smile playing at his lips at your enthusiasm. You suddenly seemed to be aware of your close proximity and entwined fingers because your cheeks flushed a bright red, emphasized further under the dimming sunlight. You held his gaze for as long as you could, blue meeting yours, until you decided to avert your gaze from his and your locks framed the side of your face and concealed your blush from him, making him chuckle silently.

 

The rest of the walk was spent purposely slowly and in silence, hand to hand, and you stopped when you reached to the front of your apartment. He thought that might have been a good time to part his gloved digits from yours, but you had other plans and instead tightened the hold of your fingers around his hand. “Nero, I…” You began, looking down at your feet with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. “I think I, um…” His gaze was set on your bottom lip and the way your teeth grazed over it as you attempted to formulate the words you wanted to express yourself with, making him grow slightly uneasy as well. “Yeah?” He encouraged you to continue and you looked up at him, face burning up. It made him want to reach out for you and cup your cheeks to see whether they would feel as scorching hot as they seemed to be under his palms.

 

“I had a lot of fun today with you and everyone else.” Much to his surprise and utter bafflement, your free hand reached up to cup his cheek, you tugged him lower to your height by your joined hands and raised yourself up on your tiptoes so you could be able to brush your glossed lips over his plump ones briefly before kissing him fully on the lips; leaving him wide-eyed and unable to function on spot, with his heart beating so fast that he swore it would break free of his ribcage. Your thumb swiped over his cheekbone so gently that he almost missed the action, and he felt the tip of your nose against his cheek when you pressed closer to him. Your eyes which had fallen shot opened to look at his as your lips parted, and he felt your breath move away from his face as you stood fully on your feet. “And I… I really like… you. I like spending time with you… I’ve been finding myself wondering… how you are doing recently. You… you’re always on my mind. And I’ve— I never have— actually shared my feelings with anyone else before, not like this. But I…” You trailed off, helpless.

 

Your confession managed to snap him out of his daze as your lips on his felt like a slap to his face, making him swallow nervously and clear his throat before he could say anything for fear that his voice would crack. “I’ve, uh… I’ve never done this before.” He said truthfully, right hand on the back of his neck, eyes averted from yours. He could tell that you had been interested in him, too, maybe not as much as he thought; however he had never thought the possibility of your making a move through. He had no idea what his next course of action should be and what would prove to be the best for the two of you; but something became clear when he closed his heart and thought of your safety objectively rather than letting his own desires cloud his vision. “Look…” He placed his right hand on your shoulder and pulled his left hand from your right one; feeling his heart clench at the face of disappointment you made, however he was strong-willed and determined to go on. There was no way he would be able to live with himself if he let you get caught up in his world. He had to pass off this undeniable attraction and pull between the two off you as just an infatuation and not think about it. He had to convince himself that there was no way he could be attracted to you so intensely in such a short time that he wouldn’t be able to let go of you. “I can’t do this.” The words felt bitter on his tongue and it tied at his own, blatant lie; because he felt like he could do pretty much anything you asked for.

 

“I’m not the one for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, it took me a while to complete this due to an unforeseen writer's block. I'm not very happy with this format, but here you go.


	9. bruised;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of violence.

_“I’m not the one for you.”_

 

‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ was the only thing on your mind as you ascended the stairs of your apartment, hands blindly grabbing the staircase handle to support your weight; mind comprehensively reduced to an impotent mess. You shouldn’t have done that, you really shouldn’t have gone ahead of yourself and do something you would have never done under normal circumstances. You wanted to say it was his fault for making you feel things that you had never before in such a short span of time and making you do things that you would never think of doing like kissing him out of the blue and you wanted to blame him for not returning your feelings and pushing you away like that; however you knew better. You only had yourself to blame for driving him away from you. Not only did he not reciprocate your feelings, you only ended up making an ass of yourself and completely ruining the beautiful day you had for the both of you. No matter how strong, you should have seen that they were unconditional and not have attempted to force your affections on him. After having so much fun today with everyone and most importantly Nero, you should have known something would just go wrong.

 

You tried to reason yourself as you blindly reached for the keys in your bag. He had never been interested in you, clearly, so what did you misread in his behavior? Was it the way he looked at you? Now that you thought about it, it was no different from the way he looked at everyone else, maybe with the exception of Dante with whom he incessantly seemed to be angry. Was it the way you took his abstinence for shyness and the fear of approaching you for he found you interesting? What about when you wrapped your arms around his and pressed your face on his back as he escorted you to Anaon to make sure that you wouldn’t get harmed on your way? It was because your boss hired him, not because he was all too enthusiastic to take you there. In fact, there was a good chance he even found it to be a drag when he did so. What about the time you sat together and had a quiet meal until Dante dragged him away? It was also because your boss told you two to relax and he was just too kind to refuse him, wasn’t he, just like the way he gently nudged you away after your attempted lip-lock. Even today, when he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you in to his chest, when he declared that you two were indeed beyond friends, when he held your hand as tightly as you had on your way back home… Was it all just to save you the trouble of explaining yourself to your friends? Was it because he found it an easy way to eradicate the questions and teasing remarks coming your way? You were the one to reach for his hand and hold it, and he just didn’t let go because he didn’t think by the end of the day you would be violating very single one of his feelings in such an inconsiderate and selfish way.

 

You shook your head and when you managed to find the lock and push the key in, you figured you had no strength to unlock the door and simply lay your forehead on the cold surface of your door, your eyes burning with the tears you had no dignity left to shed. How could you do that? You ruined everything you accomplished in trying to befriend him for the past month. It had been hard enough to initiate a conversation with him given how detached he seemed to enjoy being; and to think you had been so excited to get his name, to get to know more of him each passing day… Why did you even think he would be interested in you? Someone like you who was only decent looking in comparison to everyone else, in comparison to the women who might have been interested in him before you came along. It wasn’t hard to see that he would be a catch; even today, you could see that Beth was blatantly interested in him and his good looks. She was a good friend of yours and you loved her and you loved spending time with her, you really did, but you had known her and been with her long enough to have learned a thing or two about her attitude, especially around boys. You knew that she only teased the two of you to get an answer from Nero. She wanted him to say that you were indeed not an item and just close friends so she could make a move on him; you could also swear on your name and pride that Beth knew the second she saw you that you had a crush on the white haired boy. By doing so when you spoke next time, she would be able to tell you that she was interested in your friend from the other day and would like to get his name and number without ‘breaking the bro-code’.

 

What surprised you was the way Nero held you closer and replied that you two were together almost in a kind way to tell her to piss off. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks the second he pulled you in and his masculine odor met your nose, but to actually hear him say those words made your heart skip a beat. He had long ago planted a seed of hope within your heart by spending time with you, but right then, it blossomed into a tree so tall, a flower so beautiful, you couldn’t get enough of the sensation of its tickling your stomach. All the day too, you assumed he was content with having your hand in his since his subtle smile insinuated so. Or at least you thought it did. Maybe it was because he was truly annoyed by Beth’s constant remarks and it was the most effective way to shut her up. Maybe he thought that you wouldn’t mind since you two were friends, and maybe he didn’t know the effect it had on you since it was likely that he didn’t know about your developing crush on him. Either way, you only realized how helpless you were after he pulled his hand away from yours. You only realized that hope, in the end, might not be a good thing at all to have, especially in cases like this where you were left miserable.

 

Your chest was burning and your head was already hurting, the door no longer felt cold under your forehead as you had been standing there laying your head on it for god knows how long, eyes closed tight. The back of your eyelids were burning, and even thought you did your best not to get it to you right then and there, you couldn’t stop the tear drops trailing down your cheeks. You felt ashamed, you felt like an absolute asshole and you felt embarrassment more than anything else. No matter how bitter his rejection was on your tongue, it was the fact that you embarrassed yourself so openly in front of him, the way you opened your heart to someone for the first time in your life only to be pushed back humiliated you, and it was that humiliation that made you spill those tears more so than anything else. You couldn’t keep doing this here though, no matter how much you wanted to wallow in your misery and never get out of your bed; you couldn’t. You couldn’t just stand there with your head against your door until your problems just somehow magically vanished away and dissolved in thin air; real life didn’t work that way. You managed to push your head away from the door and wipe your wet eyes rather aggressively with the hand that didn’t have a tight grip around the key in the lock, smudging your eyeliner and mascara all over your eyes in the process. You sniffled and turned the key to open the door, pushing off your shoes with no regard for their safety and dumping your bag and keys altogether next to the door once you had closed it.

 

Your head was already pounding with an incoming headache and you hadn’t even started crying yet. The responsible lobe of your brain scolded you for going to your bedroom immediately instead of washing off your makeup first but your sadness and sorrow quickly dominated whatever sense you had, making it echo emptily in your consciousness as it was surrounded by thousands and hundred thousands of ‘I shouldn’t have’s and ‘what if’s. You knew that a time when you would scold yourself for letting something like this get to you and feel sorry for feeling as miserable as you did, but today just wasn’t that day. Today was the day you would feel sorry for yourself for humiliating yourself the way you had and attempting your best to get it off your chest. You barely had the mind to stand in front of the mirror to take off your dress before you delved into the soft cushions of your bed; only this time, you stopped to look at yourself in the mirror, feeling nothing like you had this morning. You no longer felt pretty, you just felt that you weren’t good enough, and when you looked at yourself in the mirror you didn’t see a beautiful woman; all you saw was your enhanced flaws poking fun at you and your reflection mocking you for not being ideal. You just stood there, and looked at yourself from toe to head. Did you really look this horrible in this goddamn dress all day? To think you left the house thinking you actually looked decent in it and that it suited you. Had your hair always been this terrible? Thin, oily strands felt as if they poked from every direction and made you want to rip all the rogue hairs off. You really shouldn’t have had that milkshake today, it totally showed.

 

You suddenly hated the dress you thought to be cute this morning and unzipped it to quickly shrug it off and chuck it somewhere, preferably out of your sight. As you stood in front of the mirror in nothing but your underwear, you could feel your eyes growing wet again. You were such an idiot for letting this ruin your mood and you completely. You wiped furiously at your wet eyes again with the heels of your palm almost to chase your weakness and negativity away, though your attempts proved abortive and suddenly there was much more than you could catch up with, feeling the salty water on your lips. You felt your nose running and looked around for some tissue papers but found none, leaving you with no choice but to pad into your bathroom barefooted to wash your face. And you did, you blew your nose and wiped your eyes even though your tears kept falling and your shoulders kept shaking silently, both your hands placed on the sink so you could lean over it. That was alright, you cooed yourself, you just needed to cry away your sadness and some tears, and then you would be too numb by the morning to feel anything relatively upsetting. You just needed to get it off your system, you just needed to… You bowed your head and leaned your forearms on the edge of the sink, hands trying to wipe at your swollen red eyes and snotty nose and wash it all off at the same time.

 

You cleaned your nose and washed your face once again before turning off the faucet to look at yourself in the mirror; taking in your horrible appearance. Your eyes were red now, both from your salty tears and rubbing them constantly, and so was your nose. You looked terrible. When you woke up tomorrow, you would have bags under your eyes. And to think it was the first day of college, too. How would you go to work after that? The thought made you pause and your brain short-circuit. The work… You worked at Bulls Eye Bar, where Dante and Nero frequented. You had almost forgotten that you met the both of them thanks to your part time job there. You… How could you go there again, where you were eventually bound to see them, one of them if not the both of them at the same time? How would that even go? Nero surely would be uncomfortable, maybe he wouldn’t even look at you. Maybe he would stop coming there. What would Dante do? Would he make fun of you? He would, wouldn’t he? You couldn’t go there anymore. You had an amazing job, your pay cheque was richer than most compared to the hours you worked and the work you got done, it was almost too much to give away and your boss was very understanding; he encouraged to pursue your dreams and to get whatever you needed to done if it meant not coming in, which you always found odd and a little too understanding. Had you been taking the advantage of your boss’ kindness all along, like you had done so with Nero?

 

No, no. You wouldn’t go there. No matter how insensible that might have sounded to people, you just couldn’t force yourself under the pressure. You knew that it was running away from your problems, you knew that everything wouldn’t go your way in life and sometimes you would encounter things like these but you would get nowhere if you kept running away from them miserably; but you just couldn’t. It was easy to say, way easier. You would grow even more paranoid than you already were, you would have to avoid Nero at all costs, your attention would be diverted and your work would get sloppier and sloppier day by day until your boss deemed you useless and fired you anyway. You had an interview with an Abraxas employee tomorrow anyway, and things were going smoothly. If you managed to impress them, you would be able to secure yourself a job there. You had enough savings to go by a month without difficulties, and you would be looking for a job that actually required your skills and expertise, anyway. The more you thought it over, the more sense it made to you. You would wake up tomorrow, wash your face, get dressed and go to your university since you had afternoon classes that would take up most of your day, anyway. After which you would go to your interview at Abraxas. You would drop by at Bulls Eye on your way and call it quits. Then you would come back home and wallow in some more sadness, and some more until you were ready to go to sleep and wake up to another day.

 

You washed your face and your hands once again, splashing cold water on your arms and around your neck, which made your hairs stand up unpleasantly, before drying yourself off with a towel. Your head hurt and you rubbed the towel to your face almost as if you wanted it to develop a mouth and chew your face off there before hanging it back on its rack. You grabbed a few painkillers from the cabinet and swallowed them without water no matter how much you hated the taste it left on your tongue and padded back to your bedroom. Clothes could come later, you thought and flopped on your bed, face buried in your soft pillows with your arms stuffed under them to support your head.

 

What a long, long day it had been. First no food, then Nero, the weird visions… The visions. You couldn’t believe you had almost forgotten about them. Now that you were left all by yourself to contemplate them in the confines of your room, you felt your mind drift back to them and how real they felt, almost as if you lived the moment yourself, almost as if you had been present there when the events occurred. Had they really? How could you possibly know that you weren’t having some weird dream? It just made no sense to think of it as a dream especially since it felt so real that you felt the rain on your skin, in your hair and on your face; however it made much less sense to think of it as something more! What triggered those visions? You closed your eyes to focus on the moment, attempting to will your pounding headache away. You offered Nero to come with you, looked at the clock and saw that you were running late so you held onto his hand to usher him out of the shop as quickly as possible and— that was when.

 

When you touched him. It was the first time you had physical contact with Nero. You took him by his left hand, on which he didn’t wear a glove nor had it casted ever, that was the right one. The right one, in your vision, was something you had never seen before nor could ever make up something like that in your mind. The image briefly flashed back, and you saw it painted on the back of your eyelids. Sharp claws, glowing blue cracks on the back of his palm and inside his hand, running up to his forearm… It looked so real, yet it was absurd. Your mind couldn’t perceive the possibility of its being real. The thought that Nero would hide something like this and lie to you about the injury on is right arm was something you couldn’t formulate, something you couldn’t bring yourself to believe. It just didn’t make sense to you, how would something like that even exist? How could it? What explanation would he have to that? It was not something he could possibly explain to anyone had it been real, and it would make sense for him to wear long sleeved coats and gloves or cast it up in an attempt to conceal its true nature… But… It just couldn’t be.

 

Your vision of Dante and his twin brother made even less sense. How could you possibly know that Dante had a twin brother? Assuming that this private knowledge had somehow been granted to you by the heavens above, how could you possibly know that his name was Vergil and he was born seventeen minutes prior to Dante? There was no way you could assume them to be twins. They sure looked alike under the rain, with both their white locks framing their foreheads. That might have been a hint, but seventeen minutes? Regardless of how real your vision had felt, you had seen him. The man you knew to be Dante, on his knees, with a gigantic sword piercing through his chest. He bled and he bled and his blood was washed away by the downpour as he kept bleeding out to his demise right there. He bled. He had been… impaled by a sword almost as tall as you. There was no possible way he could have survived that and could come to stand in front of you as the same man in red from years ago in your vision. There was no way this could have worked; humans didn’t function like that. First Nero’s inhumane right arm, then the immortal Dante and his seventeen minutes older twin brother Vergil… You could have sworn to heavens and above, as you walked out with Nero, you could feel his feelings tangible in the air. A voice called from deep within you and distinguished what you felt from his though yours were influenced by his, and his became yours and yours became his and you lost the track of your thoughts and mind altogether.

 

Had you finally gone insane? You literally had no reason to be having dreams or visions all of a sudden? If you were to have visions of people’s lives every time you touched them, or even if it was something exclusive to Nero and Dante, you would have done so plenty of times when you held hands today or when you kiss— Okay, okay! You didn’t need to keep thinking about that, you could really go without feeling the sharp twist in your gut every time you thought about the way your lips pressed against his soft ones. You turned in your bed, lay on your back and back on your front helplessly, turning left and right in an attempt to empty your mind and fall asleep.  It had been a very, very long day today, and you had a lot of work to get done tomorrow morning, so you needed your sleep. You closed your eyes to a dreamland haunted by the images you had seen earlier that day in a continuous loop; men in blue and red would keep clashing their swords under the rain, so fast that every swing of their sword would cut through a drop of rain.

 

When morning came and you woke up, you were feeling even more tired than yesterday. Your head was pounding with a bloodcurdling headache that made you want to keep sleeping until it passed. You didn’t have to get up and look at yourself in the mirror to see that your eyes were swollen from crying yesterday, because they actually felt heavy. Your mouth was dry and you felt dehydrated, feeling your pulse on your temples, on the side of your neck, and your aching feet. You just wanted to close your eyes and sleep the day away, but you had to be responsible if you wanted to get to places, even if that meant having to literally drag yourself out of the bed. You turned on your stomach and rubbed your face on the pillow, noting the way it was slightly wet, leaving you to wonder whether you drooled in your sleep or cried in it. You were neutral to note that you left no dark smudges on the pillow, you cried and washed your face enough times to wash away your makeup, apparently. You planted both hands on the bed so you could sit up on your knees, looking around with no aim. Boy, did your head hurt.

 

You needed to get up. You would wash your face and brush your teeth. You would take a shower. Your hands reached under your armpits beneath your shirt. You would shave. Your fridge was still empty, only this time you thought you didn’t have the luxury to have your breakfast at Bulls Eye. You remember seeing some yogurt and eggs in it though, and it was more than enough since you didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. Then you would prepare your backpack; you had classes today so you would need to take a notepad and a pen, you would need to take some money with you, a bottle of water … You closed your eyes in thought. You also had an interview with Abraxas today, so you needed to make yourself look presentable; it would be much of a trouble and waste of time to come back home from university, change your clothes and take off again. You actually didn’t have much time, which meant you would have to dress smartly to your lectures. Great. You would be dead tired by the time you got home, but you would be one step closer to Abraxas and getting away from Bulls Eye, and Nero, your brain added helplessly against your better judgment. Your head still hurt terribly, and you wanted to chew a few more painkillers but if you wanted to do that, you would need to eat something first. You needed to get yourself better, not worse, so you wouldn’t keep being miserable.

 

You moved your legs from beneath you and stood up, turning to look at your unmade bed and contemplate whether you had the energy to do so. You left it unmade when you left yesterday morning and nothing good happened, maybe if you at least somewhat tried this morning, things would go better? You didn’t think so, though you stopped to pull to covers up and move them so they didn’t look as crazed before padding into your bathroom. You indeed looked as horrible as you thought you would. Since you couldn’t sleep easily yesterday you turned around and tousled your hair, it was sticking up from every direction in a complete, ugly mess. Your eyes had bag under them and were still red. You rubbed them and felt the crust around your eyes. You had some around the corners of your mouth, making you realize you had indeed both cried and drooled on your poor pillow. Gross. You would have to wash the sheets later. You turned on the faucet and quickly splashed some water on your face, rubbing your eyes and mouth clean before you squeezed some toothpaste on your toothbrush to brush your teeth. Mint actually felt good in your dry mouth and made you feel slightly better. Though you could use some water. You spit the toothpaste and cleaned your mouth before quickly making your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water from the sink. Yeah, hydrating yourself definitely felt better. You could have a quick breakfast before shower, so you decided to do just that.

 

Yogurt was no good, you dumped the poor thing floating in its own juices down the sink and turned on the faucet to help clean it, shaking your head. You had an egg, and you had some couple days old bread. You decided to crack the egg in a mixing bowl and beat it thoroughly so you could bask the sliced, dated bread in it. Some salt and pepper, a sprinkle of thyme for good luck and cayenne for some color, and you had three slices ready in a matter of seconds. It didn’t actually taste bad even though if you had milk, it would have made the bread softer and if you had some parmesan cheese or some cheddar cheese, it would have made this a trillion times better. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. You would have to do your grocery shopping soon as you could. You would grab a bite on your way back home but what would you have for breakfast? Maybe you could go to the supermarket a few blocks down tomorrow and fill your sad fridge once again, it really wasn’t like you to have an empty fridge. You would need to do something about that. Your eyes met the clock on the wall as you took your last bite and put your dish in the sink. You needed to hurry if you wanted to make it on time. You filled yourself another glass of water and padded to bathroom, where you downed another painkiller and stepped into the shower.

 

The warm water felt better than you could describe on your skin, almost as if you were having you first shower in ages. It felt as if it had been ages to you, after such a long, tiring, mentally exhausting day, you needed this. Though you couldn’t do anything about your stubborn, pulsing headache, the warm water helped relax your muscles and ease your mind of your anxieties and worries for a little while. You rubbed soap on your skin, your face, under your arms. You shaved your armpits and legs clean just to play it safe and shampooed your hair and washed it off so you could condition it, massaging your scalp in an attempt to ease your headache and feeling how silkier your hair felt. You fooled around for fifteen more minutes before patting yourself dry with a towel this time, which you draped on the rack to dry, leaving you walking to your bedroom naked. You would have liked to bask in the warmth of your bed but your soaked pillows and the time running out made you think twice about it. You put on a bra and a matching panties before opting to wear a white button up shirt and black jeans. Your cotton jeans weren’t actually skinny, so they looked more professional than casual, especially with the short sleeve white button up shirt. You had black, flat shoes to go with this look that would make you both look older and more professional.

 

You combed your hair once you put on your shirt and parted it the way you liked. You weren’t really a professional makeup artist or anything and neither did you like covering your face in layers of foundation and powder, but you had to do something about those bags under your eyes without making yourself look like an absolute clown. You remembered having intensive eye contour cream somewhere, and you were right. You dabbed some under your eyes, lined your eyes with black liner and put on some mascara. You felt like some matte red lipstick today, so you put some on and made sure you had the product with you for when you needed to go over it. Et voilà. You still looked a little tired but that wasn’t anything a cup of coffee couldn’t fix even though you weren’t a big fan; but you definitely didn’t look like you cried yourself to sleep last night anymore. The power of makeup and the things it was capable of, fascinating.

 

You made sure you had everything you needed before you got out of your apartment block and locked it behind you just to be safe. Keys, check. Wallet, check. Notepad and pen, check. Lipstick, check. You were ready to go through the day, for which you were grateful if you were being honest because if you busied yourself with something, then you would have no time to wallow in your self-pity and anxieties triggered by the events of yesterday. No, you weren’t going crazy, and no, you could go through the day without running into Nero. It wasn’t as if you had seen him anywhere except for Bulls Eye and Devil May Cry, so you were safe. Even if fate decided it would make you suffer by placing the two of you in the same area, you would easily be able to tell him apart from the rest of the people given his eccentric sense of fashion and his snowy white locks that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. If you were to spot him, you would run and hide behind something until the danger that was him passed and you were left by yourself, with your heart in your mouth. You could do it, you couldn’t, you wouldn’t let anything effect you to the point you couldn’t go on your life; you had to be careful not to especially since it was an important time for you, you couldn’t afford making mistakes because of some stupid crush, even though you knew it to be so much more than that, you needed to make yourself believe that it wasn’t anything too major that couldn’t be forgotten. Sure.

 

You took the tram to your campus seeing as you would run pretty late if you were to walk all the way over there, which was something you didn’t mind and often did really, but today you just didn’t have enough time all because you fooled around for a while in the shower. It turned not to matter though, because you made it just in time. Cross your heart, you did your best to focus, you tried not to think of anything but what the professor was talking about, but you couldn’t. Soon your mind drafted back to the events of yesterday, how you held Nero’s hand in your and how you messed everything up by being impatient and so unlike yourself by kissing him. ‘Shouldn’t have’s came flooding back in your mind and drowned out everything else; every sound, every smell, every other sense and left you drowning in your own misery. You wanted to slap yourself each time you remembered it, your breathing quickened and you had to drink some water to rehydrate your dry mouth. Your eyes drifted back to your professor and you thought maybe you could chase away your thoughts if you focused on him instead. You took in his clothing, his white button up shirt through which you could see his undershirt, the pits of his arms wet from sweat. You averted your eyes from the sight of it alone.

 

In the end, it wasn’t the end of the world, really. It was just a kiss. You were just being your paranoid self. One day you would look back at this moment and laugh at your own stupidity, then again, as you thought yesterday, today just wasn’t the day. You wouldn’t quit your job just because you kissed a man who didn’t feel the same about you, would you? You might have, you needed to be careful about your choices especially when your mind was particularly disoriented like this. You could talk to him and tell him that it was just a misunderstanding on your part and that you were being an asshole, but you didn’t think you would be able to look at his face let alone talk to him without wanting the ground to swallow you whole and drag you into the pits of hell where you would burn in your shame and self-pity. No. No, you needed to think this through. You could call your boss… and what? Manipulate his understanding, goodwill once again, even further? When had you stoop so low as to take the advantage of people’s good intentions? You skipped yesterday and you didn’t even let him know that you wouldn’t be coming today. The only thing you were good at these days seemed to be being an absolute asshole to people around you and having weird visions which made you think that you were going crazy. They never really left your mind, maybe you would arrange an appointment with a psychiatric sometime; you really seemed to need it.

 

The clock ticked and time passed just like that when you were wallowing in your own thoughts. When you came back to your senses, your head was hurting more than ever and the class was dismissed. You had two more hours to go, and you would be on time for your interview at five past meridiem. You weren’t just yet ready to go through another two hours without some sort of an energy boost though, so you bought yourself a cup of iced coffee and an iced tea when it didn’t really cut it for you, feeling the caffeine do its job. You felt slightly more awake and focused and ready to go through the lecture when your professor walked in again, telling the class about old myths and legends people had. You almost wanted to walk out of the class when towards the end of the class, he mentioned the people of Fortuna who worshipped one of the supposedly strongest demons to have ever existed before his eternal banishment, The Legendary Dark Knight Sparda. What a title, you thought, though the name kept bugging you. Sparda? Why did it sound so familiar and where did you hear that before? You were pretty sure it wasn’t Nero who told you about it before, and you had only heard about Fortuna Island before as a place where people worshipped a demon, not a specific demon. You were pretty sure you hadn’t been given Latin classes for three years so you could translate some old demonic legends. You quickly lost interest in the tale and soon you run out of time and class was dismissed anyway.

 

By the time you were standing in front of the Abraxas Headquarters, it was already half six. You were nearly an hour late because a car crashed into the tram you took to the building. Thankfully, the attendants provided you with small certificates which were signed by the captain and would assist your story and help prove it true; though you had never seen anyone do that before. You were puzzled until an attendant explained to you that accidents like this occurred more than frequently in some parts of the town, especially during rush hour and where it was more crowded, and they adopted this new policy after getting incessant complaints from students and employees who had been scolded by their respective teachers of bosses for being late and having the same excuse over and over again. You thought that it was very nice of them to have done something like that, it was clever, and it would save you the trouble, as well.

 

Luckily when you got to the reception, you were told that the person to interview you had not yet arrived and would be there shortly, making you realize you would have been waiting for an hour by then if you had come on time. You only had to wait for fifteen minutes before you were called in. You had grown familiar with the green eyed brunet, Jason, interviewing you; he was always the one to greet you and the one whom you had talked to so far. You figured he had an important position in the company, but never really questioned him further on the details as it was his job to do the questioning. He was quite friendly, though, he had a soothing voice that calmed you down and helped you relax when your hands were trembling in anxious excitement during your first interview. He told you that it would be fine and you would do just great, that you wouldn’t have been called had they not found your work adequate. That helped you relax and you were able to grow more comfortable. He was friendly as always today and asked you how you were doing and apologized for running late. You didn’t even mention the accident that had occurred on your way since he didn’t have to know about it, making you dismiss his apology so you could get to the point quickly.

 

He told you about how higher ups had been impressed by your thorough and accurate translations, having had them revised, checked and confirmed. He told you in a hushed voice almost as if he were giving you a secret that your position would soon be secured in the company and you would start working together and be coworkers; his words managing to put a big smile on your face and take your mind away from your worried for a while. You really did it! You had always doubted your skills and abilities but you had done it! They actually had your work revised and liked it enough to give you a call back. If you could secure a job as a core member in a rapidly growing international company like Abraxas and provide them with enough material, you would live the rest of your life in comfort. Translators, especially the good ones like you who knew ancient languages whose name no one even heard of like Enochian and slightly more known ones like Latin, got paid rather impressively. Maybe you would be able to save up enough money to buy a house of your own, in the middle of nowhere where it was all green and you would have your own garden. It would be amazing! If you didn’t include your almost-breakdown in the class and the unlucky accident on your way here, this day was so good so far. Technically, you didn’t have a breakdown and no one, including you thankfully, got injured in the accident too, so it was a good day.

 

Even though that still didn’t mean you could avoid your problems until they vanished or you forgot they existed. You would need to consult your boss to give him the news, even if you were going to be a chicken and call it quits which seemed like something you would do, you still needed to go to the Bulls Eye, where you had a pretty good chance of seeing Nero. Even if he weren’t there when you went there, your boss would keep insisting you worked and try coaxing you into hanging around for more whether you liked it or not, and he could come in then. Though, you really didn’t want to mess up your friendship and start avoiding him like that; you had, and it wasn’t like you could rewind time to undo it all. Not to mention the fact that it wasn’t something you could avoid or pretend it didn’t exist for long, since you had a nightshift today. You really didn’t want to go, you had seen Dante more than enough times there to know when he lurked around. You also seriously considered seeing a professional about the visions you had. It might have been related to some repressed childhood trauma that you had somehow forgotten about that was dramatically resurfacing for all you knew; but you needed to reach out for help, especially if you were to keep losing sleep over the same dream every night. If it had been just a dream, you might not have given that this much thought, but you had seen it in broad daylight. Were you hallucinating?

 

You sighed and unlocked your phone to look at the time. It was nine already?! The interview took you a while because this time, you actually asked some questions about the company, the working hours and how everything would progress should you be a part of the team. Jason was patient with you and explained every little detail to you about which you still might have had doubts, having cleared your mind of all your worries regarding the company. And you fooled around on your way to the station, too. You walked slowly and with your head down as you pondered about what you would do with your life and whether you were overestimating all this thing with… Nero since if things went your way, you would be quitting your job anyway or if you were only feeling somewhat relaxed because the day passed without an incidents like seeing him or having to talk to him. There were times you truthfully hated yourself for always making a mountain of small things like these; the fact that you mind wouldn’t stop going over and over and over them exhausted you and left you fed up and anxious, making you believe everything that had happened was somehow, someway your fault.

 

You decided it would be a good idea to walk back to your home, since you really didn’t want to take the tram. It would be too crowded, too cramped with people who were done with their shifts trying to get back to their homes and families, and sometimes with perverts who would sneakily try to take the advantage of the crowd and try press themselves and their crotch flat against your back. It repulsed you, the crowd had enough as it is but to deal with stink middle-aged man who couldn’t get some and would disrespectfully violate your personal space and rights? You had been trying your best to tame your short fuse ever since you started university and working at Bulls Eye, but boy did you have a short one and would you start a war if people tried to do that.

 

As you walked back home, lights flickered and illuminated the empty backstreets dimly. You only realized you had to walk through Anaon to get back to Residential Area from where you would walk home when you actually found yourself in Anaon’s ominous streets. You recalled the way Nero escorted you here to make sure you would come back home unharmed, and you rode a motorcycle for the first time in your life. You remembered wrapping your arms around him and feeling his toned back pressed against your chest as you held onto him for your dear life and he actually let you. The way he helped you seat yourself and poked gentle fun at how terrified you seemed to be, how he helped you carry the bottles back to Bulls Eye… The memories warmed you and made your stomach turn and twist in displeasure as you recalled the way you ruined your bond with Nero just yesterday, giving you an overwhelming urge to punch yourself just for being an idiot once again. But you hadn’t, as you had been distracted by a howl that you swore echoed somewhere. You were suddenly reminded of the reason why Nero escorted you rather than his escorting you; there had been several murders in Anaon. You didn’t have a television and you hadn’t been to Bulls Eye in two days, so you didn’t know the details of it. You were suddenly painfully aware of how alone you were, how dark the sky had gotten and how defenseless you would be if a serial killer wanted to cut you open. You would have no means of defense. You would die here—

 

Were you going crazy, because you could have sworn you heard another howl resonate in the streets and scratch at your ears? Had you finally lost your mind, because you could make out the silhouette of someone, rather something on the wall across from you? You swallowed nervously and hastened your steps without daring to look back. You couldn’t look back. Your heart was beating so fast that you were sure if you survived this walk out of the Anaon, you would die from a heart attack. You were terrified. You were just imagining things, you were sure. The howls were just some stray dogs, you were sure. You were sure, you had to be sure. The faster you walked, the faster the gears in your mind seemed to turn and click. You could hear another set of steps following yours— No, another sets? That sure didn’t sound like someone was following you, it sounded like whatever that was following you for whatever reason had company. Almost as if three people, four people were trailing behind you, matching your pace. Before you knew it, you were running, you were running and you were running faster, because the person behind you seemed to run faster, too. Your lungs hurt from the lack of oxygen and you tried to fill them by breathing rapidly, the sides of your waist hurt and felt like it would explode and paralyze you if you forced yourself any longer. You broke out into a sweat and the air felt cold on your warmed, sweaty skin as it hit your face and your hair was everywhere; in your mouth, in your eyes, on your cheeks…

 

You didn’t know for how long you could go before your legs gave out, however you weren’t all too eager to find out. That wasn’t a decision for you to make however, because something wrapped itself tightly around your ankle and you planted face first into the solid ground. Your nose met the ground and a sharp pain ran down your spine and as you tried to fight against gravity, the stone beneath your hands scraped the skin of your hands. You yelped in agony, feeling your eyes water. Your nose hurt, and you could feel small rocks digging into your open flesh and irritating it even further, hurting you. The thing around your ankle curled tighter, almost as if it wanted to shatter your bones into a thousand pieces and rip your foot off. You fought against it despite the agonizing pain and moved, you shrugged, you dug your bails into the ground and tried to claw your way away from it, but all your efforts were in vain. Another tug sent you flying backwards and you scraped your chin on the ground in the process, your nails breaking against the force. An ominous sound resonated, this time much closer to you, and you had no choice but to turn your head to look at the thing causing you your agony.

 

All you saw was red irises shining atrociously in the darkness of the night. It was nothing like you had ever seen before; it resembled a spider but it was easily twice as taller than you, it was twice as bigger than you. It had a rounded body and eight claws that looked as if they were made of metal. One of them was wrapped around your ankle and it was what caught you in the first place. You realized the blood seeping through the wound around your ankle. It hurt even more now that you became aware of it, a hoarse scream leaving your lungs. You screamed as loudly as and for as long as you could, not wanting to be killed by this creature, not here. Suddenly, nothing that was troubling you from earlier mattered. Nothing, nothing at all except for your life. Your salty tears mixed with dirt and it made your wounds burn brighter as they met the opened flesh, making you yell louder. Your dying cries didn’t seem to please the creature because it lifted you effortlessly by the ankle it had in its grip and swung you so hard, that when you back met the brick wall across from the street, you exhaled all the oxygen in your lungs and couldn’t breathe. Your weight and the force of the throw created a dent in the brick wall and left you impaled there, unable to move a limb until you fell on your own accord and the side of your head met the solid ground. Even as your vision was fading into darkness slowly, your arms moved to get up, to push yourself away, to crawl away from that creature; your body couldn’t recognize your demise like your brain had accepted your death and wanted to move, wanted to get away from what would be your end. Your lungs still ached and you couldn’t breathe, you only tasted metal in your mouth. Your tears dried long ago, you just wanted t get away.

 

You couldn’t, and as your eyes closed to a dreamless sleep, you thought you heard someone call your name.


	10. tired;

_You couldn’t, and as your eyes closed to a dreamless sleep, you thought you heard someone call your name._

 

You were awake. You just couldn’t open your eyes yet, you didn’t have the strength to do so. You could hear the heavy steps of someone… of two… three? You weren’t sure; you could hear but not focus. You could smell the air around you. It was dusty and it irritated your sensitive nostrils, and you could smell leather next to you yet it felt so distinct, far away. Gunpowder? Fire. The room smelled as if something had been burnt and put out in it. You could hear. You could? Yeah, you heard footsteps earlier. You recognized a music playing in the background… A guitar solo, but nothing too extreme to the point it would hurt your ears just listening to it, more… soothing? The volume had been turned down significantly and provided some background noise. The footsteps stopped, and two people were talking. Three? You didn’t know. Heels? You could hear heels clicking on the floor, you thought it to be wooden by the sound. You could taste. Your mouth was painfully dry, you felt as if you had been licking metal all day. It was an unpleasant taste on your tongue. You felt dehydrated, you couldn’t swallow properly, the lack of moisture in your mouth made it very painful to do so. You could feel, too. When your brain processed that face, you gradually became aware of yourself. Your head was throbbing, you could hear yourself wheezing with each breath you took, you felt an ache so terrible in your chest that even the gentlest movement of your tummy moving up and down with your each breath you inhaled and exhaled sparked an immense pain. Your legs were numb and it worried you that you might not be able to move them again. But you could wiggle your toes if you tried so that debunked the idea of your being paralyzed, though that resulted in your ankle moving involuntarily and a sharp pain shooting up your spine as a result of the action. You must have voiced your distress because you heard your own pained groan and the sounds of footsteps nearing, and you felt a hand on your head. So light, so gentle, so soothing… It moved, gently caressed your locks with feather light touches and as fingers brushed through them, you felt yourself slowly drifting away from your pain to a dreamless sleep.

 

You were awake sometime later. This time, your mouth felt as if you had sandpaper for dinner, even worse than its previous condition. You couldn’t even swallow as it had been dehydrated completely, making it very hard for you to fight against your natural reflex. You coughed in an attempt to clear your throat and ease the pain, though that only resulted in the continuation of your agony, causing your chest and your neck to hurt so badly that you couldn’t help the whine that left your lips helplessly. Your lips, you tried to lick them because they felt chapped, but your tongue was dry. You just wanted some water, you needed some. Footsteps came to your rescue again, and gently lifted your head, though you didn’t feel anyone moving you. Pillow? Your head had been laid on a pillow. Your lips were gently coaxed apart by a thumb drawing circles on one of your cheekbones and you felt a straw being placed between them. Water? It was water. You made a move to stand up, but another, rougher, calloused hand restricted any movement. You were puzzled as to why until you recalled the pain you felt from… from when? What time was it? You remembered waking up before, so how long had it been since then? You generously gulped down the water that was offered to you, feeling your thirst to be somewhat quenched even though you wanted more. You were hungry, you were thirsty, you felt completely miserable and you remembered that you were in so much pain. You didn’t know where you were, what time it was, and you couldn’t open your eyes to see where you were. You could hear your own wheezing as your breathing grew unsteady, and you felt a warm hand on your cheek. You relaxed then, letting the welcoming nature of sleep embrace your trembling, tired frame. You needed it.

 

You were awake. This time, you felt as if a weight had been lifted off your eyelids. You could open them, though your eyes felt very dry and you immediately wanted to rub them. But moving your dominant arm hurt you so much that you gave up and tried the other instead. You proved to be successful and managed to maneuver your hand to your face. Moving your fingers made you realize that your hand hurt, and touching your face made you realize that the skin was covered in cotton. The lights were dimmed, you could tell, but it still hurt your eyes. Everything seemed to hurt when you were awake these days. You closed your eyes and tried to open them again. The music from earlier was on. The smell of leather, gunpowder and something burnt; all in place which could only mean that you hadn’t been moved. And the pain, dear lord the pain. Your eyes slowly adjusted to seeing again, and you were met with the sight of a fan rotating above, secured to the ceiling. Awfully familiar. The dirt, the sounds, the smell… You just couldn’t quite put your finger on it, though admittedly the familiarity of your whereabouts was slightly relieving. Where were you? You wanted to ask exactly that, because you knew someone else was with you like the other times. The mysterious owner of the hand, the footsteps, gentle touches. You parted your lips, but no sound came out. Almost as if you had forgotten how to speak. No, you hadn’t forgotten how to speak, you just couldn’t find your voice to do so. Your throat hurt, and you needed water. You were determined to get some answers, even if you couldn’t truly perceive your surroundings in your state. What happened to you, where were you, and why did everything hurt so much?

 

“Wh… where… am I?” You managed to utter the words, not an octave louder than a whisper. Miserable, you felt absolutely miserable at your very core. Your throat protested at your speaking and might have hated you for attempting to voice your confusion and share your worries with your unknown companion, because you felt it constrict and a cough got stuck there, making you unable to breathe properly. Footsteps came closer again, and the person was talking, they were saying something that was meant for you to hear, perhaps were even kind enough to provide you with an answer, but you couldn’t quite hear anymore because your ears were ringing. You were offered water and you felt instantly better even though nothing could be done about the ringing. You would ask for more water if you could, but you didn’t have to because you felt the edge of a glass on your lips again as you were offered more. You needed this, you needed this. It felt so much better. You didn’t realize that you had closed your eyes in the meantime, your world surrounded by darkness again. You couldn’t see them. It was alright, you didn’t have to. You just needed some more rest.

 

You were awake again. You felt like you had gotten enough sleep to somewhat attempt to function now. You were feeling much better though your head was still pounding and your chest and ribs were still aching. You could move your legs and your hands were doing fine, better even. You could move your fingers, you couldn’t squeeze them into a fist but that was enough for now. Your skin felt better, someone must have wiped it clean when you were out cold. Your lips were no longer chapped, but your throat was still dry. You opened your eyes and saw the same fan from before, noting you hadn’t been moved again. The fan had somehow become your reassurance. How long had you been doing this for; falling asleep and waking up over and over? You couldn’t really remember, you didn’t know what time it was. You had a feeling it was night, but it could have been morning for all you knew; the room was dimly lit and didn’t give the time away, and music in the background was still your trustworthy companion although it had been changed. You closed your eyes again, because the exposure to light started irritating them. What happened? When you tried to answer this inquiry yourself, your head seemed to hurt more. But you needed them, some answers, something to make pain more bearable or at least provide you with a reason as to why you were in such tremendous amount of pain in the first place. First, you needed to make sure you weren’t suffering from a case of amnesia, starting from the beginning and drawing your path to here seemed like a good start.

 

You repeated your name and your age in your head. You lived just outside the Residential Area and you had a humble flat in which you lived. You part-time worked at a bar that was close by to where you lived, Bulls Eye Bar and Pizzeria. You were a student, you were going to graduate in a month. You were going to graduate, so you showed the samples of your work to an international soft drinks company, Abraxas. You classes started this morning, and you had an interview. You went to your classes, and had your interview and you were… On your way back home when you were passing through Anaon distinct, you had been chased by a grotesque creature and you had been attacked. That was the reason why everything hurt. You could see the events of the night unfolding behind your closed lids, taunting you helplessly. You were deep in thought and hadn’t realized that you were all alone in the middle of an area in which inhumane killings had been reported until you heard something; a howling. It was so loud and ugly, and you thought you were dreaming again. But then you saw the shadows dancing on the walls, shadows that didn’t belong to a human being, couldn’t possibly belong to a human being.

 

You tried to get away, you did your best; you really did. God, you were so scared. You were so, so scared that you would die right there and then. Everything hurt so much to the point you realized you hadn’t had a vague idea what pain was until that fateful night. You felt it all, you felt the way your nails were scraped and broken as you tried to crawl away, and you felt the way your skin was shaved by the hard ground under you. You felt hitting your nose and hearing a sickening crack, you felt your tears on your bruised skin. You felt it, you felt all of it. Being grabbed by the ankle and swung to the wall so hard that you felt bricks under your back fall and break, just like your bones. You felt your body fall on the ground limply, you remembered the fear, the horror, the terror; you felt the fear of death on the tip of your tongue and you thought that you would never see the sky again. So you tried, your fingertips hurt and your broken nails dug into your skin but you tried your best to crawl away. You couldn’t, you couldn’t; you would die. You would die for real, nobody would find you; you would die without having accomplished anything and in a few days everyone would forget about you, forget that you ever existed. You saw black. And you heard someone call your name, so loudly, it reached to your consciousness and carved itself there before you passed out.

 

When the fear of death from before and the dread of dying in a puddle of blood that belonged to you on the streets, half-eaten by whatever monster that was came rushing back to you, you found that you could no longer breathe. Your lungs were desperate for oxygen, and you couldn’t stay still for any longer. Your upper body shot up and you sat down, immediately regretting the suddenness of your action as you swore you could feel something stabbing you from the inside. It made you panic even more, your hands were trembling as you tried to reach for something to hold on, anything that would keep you sane as you tried to breathe all the while, which had become considerably difficult and painful due to the drastic change in your position, making everything crumble down on you. You reached for your chest and your fingers curled into the fabric of your top, attempting to rip it off almost as if it would help you breathe. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe— Your ears started ringing again and you could hear a voice calling out to you. You couldn’t look at the source of it, you couldn’t, you could only look at the blanket covering your bruised legs wide-eyed in terror and try to breathe. But you couldn’t even do that; you felt as if your lungs were collapsing on you. You felt dizzy, you felt bad, you would—

 

You felt a hand meet your cheek. It was nothing like the soft touches you felt before that nursed you better and lulled you to sleep; it struck the side of your face so hard that your head whipped to the opposite side. You could only look at the worn out, leather couch with wide eyes and in utter surprise. It hurt you badly, and you could feel it stinging there. It would bruise you, you knew for sure. You realized that this was exactly what you needed in that exact moment not to be pulled into something you wouldn’t be able to get out of. Your mind slowly perceived the pain and focused on that, effectively calming you down and making you aware of it instead of the fact that you couldn’t breathe. It came naturally to you once again, as you were struck in shock, you realized you could breathe properly once again. Your hand moved from the material of your shirt to the left side of your cheek that was struck mercilessly to snap you out of your daze, your panic attack, and bring you back to the face of the earth. You were grateful, you were. You relaxed, your eyes closed, and you breathed properly once again.

 

“What the hell ‘s your problem?!” An all too familiar voice declared loudly, making you look at the source of it even though your neck hurt since you had to crane it slightly. Some two meters in front of you stood a nonchalant looking Dante, dressed in his favorite colors that complimented his fair complexion the most, with his hands on either side of him. He was bent at the knees and leaning awkwardly to the back and you saw a pair of hands clutching his black, leather shirt tightly. “Easy, boy, easy.” You followed the exposed arm and met none other than your Olympic white haired heartbreaker, looking angry. No, he was beyond angry, he looked… furious, as if he would skin Dante’s face alive and wear it as his for it to be a lesson to those who opposed him. He looked enraged with his darkly colored brows furrowed deeply and his pearly white teeth baring at the elderly male. He looked infuriated and you knew that if he was any match for Dante and knew that he could take him down effortlessly, he would have given him a good beating right there. “Y’fuckin’ bastard, the hell ‘re y’doin’—!?” You understood that the one who slapped you back to reality was Dante since you believed Nero got angry because of exactly that; you could see the veins in Nero’s left arm pulse as he held onto his shirt tighter. It scared you. Why was Nero and Dante here in the first place? No, no. the music, the sound, the smell; the leather couch, the wooden floor, the desk… It made sense for them to be here, it was Devil May Cry, it was their bar and their shop and their home; why were _you_ here?! You couldn’t understand. How did you end up here, in Devil May Cry, all patched up? How did they find you? How did they even look not least surprised by the fact that you nearly died? Weren’t they terrified of what happened to you? Weren’t they scared of it? Weren’t they least bit concerned? How could they easily joke around like that?

 

“What the fuck?” You whispered lowly but apparently loud enough for them to hear you clearly, affectively gaining everyone’s attention in the place. You managed to maneuver your legs from their uncomfortable position on the leather couch and planted your bare feet onto the wooden floor, noting how bruised and battered your exposed legs actually were. You stopped to think for a moment, unable to form words. Your face marched into one of utter disbelief and you furrowed your eyebrows deeply into a frown, lips parted as if you couldn’t find the words to describe the situation. “Are you… Are you two even fucking aware of what happened? How can you be so calm?! That— that thing— whatever that thing was nearly killed me! I— I felt it all, you have to know because I’m here patched up, and you’re joking around?!” You asked incredulously, your voice getting louder by second as the absurdity of the whole situation unfolding before you and their approach to the matter absolutely baffled you and was nothing you would expect. “Never mind that, how did you even find me? How— how long have I been out for? What happened to that thing? Why the hell am I here? _Who_ are you?” You started wheezing again, though thankfully you could control your breathing this time and didn’t need another heavy slap from Dante to regain your senses. You were tired, your head hurt, you couldn’t understand any of this. Your eyes had long drifted from their bickering sight to your trembling hands, which you held in front of you with your open palms facing you as if you couldn’t believe you were living in this moment and everything was real, because you couldn’t! How absurd, how utterly ridiculous! You waited for when you would wake up, but your pain was all too real, gluing you to the moment and the point of time against your better judgment. You shook your head and covered your face with your bandaged palms, hands still trembling.

 

You heard Nero call out your name and it sounded nothing like him. He had never called out to you like that, you had never heard him speak like that; that desperately, that hopelessly. He wanted you to move your hands so you could look at him. Why would you want to do that? He walked out on you, now you woke up in their place with no idea as to who they were and what they really did for a living. You might have crossed a line but he really owed you an explanation after all of this. How the hell did you end up here?! Your face was flushed from anger, disbelief, and confusion beneath your palms, which Nero moved by holding your wrists gently to move them away. You immediately recognized that light, soothing touch of his left hand and gloved right had from earlier in your dream to be his and you relented, seeing him kneeling in front of you and looking up at you. You could see the desperation swimming in his icy blue orbs, cheeks flushed in what you could gather to be shame. He looked ashamed of himself, almost as if he had broken your trust and betrayed you. No matter the time, the place or the circumstance, you always felt drawn to him. You could have gotten lost in his blue eyes had something glowing on your right not attracted your attention. You averted your gaze from his and followed the glow instead and from the corner of your eyes, you briefly caught the sight of Nero’s orbs widening.

 

Around your left wrist, was curled five claw-like fingers with sharpened edges that looked like very sharp nails but not quite at the same time as they were one with the skin. They were a very beautiful shade of blue and you could see faint, lighter blue lines curling around each finger. You followed the uneven, stemming blue trails helplessly, only to see the color spread to the back of his forearm where darker brown, harder skin dominated the blue and only left it visible from the cracks, almost as if the harder skin pieces had been glued over the blue base later on. Just like his palm, the back of his hand was colored blue, however his knuckles and the ends of each finger was covered by the same brown, harder skin; only leaving the middle exposed. Your eyes darted lower and you saw that his elbow was longer and curved. Your right hand freed itself from his grasp and reached to touch the left almost as if you wanted to confirm you weren’t dreaming like last time, and when your fingertips actually brushed over the unfamiliar texture, you pulled your hands away from him as if you had been burned and Nero snatched his right arm away from your touch to hide it behind his back. You didn’t know what terrified you most. The fact that you nearly died, the fact that Nero had an arm that wasn’t like anything you had ever seen before except for once in a wild dream, or the fact that you had a vision where you saw him impaled to a wall with the same arm. “I…” All of them sounded terrifying enough. Your stomach turned, and you wanted to throw up but nothing came up. What could you even say at this point?

 

“…What are you?” Your question seemed to wound Nero, and you felt the heaviness of it on your shoulders when his face scrunched up in pain almost as if he had been stabbed physically, making you turn your head with guilt and shame pooling in your stomach for making him feel miserable. You needed answers though; with everything that occurred and everything you had been through, you couldn’t be as understanding as you once were with him anymore. When you peeked back up at him, you saw that he had long ago turned his head away from you and was looking at his right arm almost as if it didn’t belong to him, almost as if he were the one who was repulsed by its very existence, almost as if he would cut it off if he could. “I need an answer!” He didn’t provide you with one and though Dante had been uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole ordeal, he decided he would put you out of your misery and enlighten you; so he walked to stand next to Nero and rested his forearm on his right shoulder and placed his free hand on his waist, making both Nero and you look at him. “Jus’ sayin’, no runnin’ outta here screamin’, cryin’ or trashin’ the place, got it?” You didn’t know what to make of this, you didn’t even know what to think so you just sat where you had previously been resting with your lips open in disbelief. He began and gestured Nero by pointing a thumb in his direction. “He and I… And the thing that did this t’ya, we’re the same. Kinda, at least. What are we?”

 

He paused and bowed his head slightly, and you weren’t sure if it was to allow this information to sink in, or to dramatize the whole thing even more. He dropped the arm that was on Nero’s shoulder to his side and opened both his palms, rounding the place as if his words would be the answer to all your question. “Long, long ago, there was a ballsy demon ‘nd his big brother. Big brother ‘s the commander ‘nd the little brother as the lieutenant, the siblings conquered the demon realm. But the big brother Mundus was a goddamn dick, ‘nd the little brother Sparda was a ballsy rebel. He fell in love with a human, betrayed his brother, ran away, blah blah. He was livin’ the goddamn dream, then knocked a pretty lady up. And that beautiful lady gave birth to twin sons. ‘course the salty ass big brother couldn’t take that ‘nd killed the mother in fronta her sons on their eighth birthday ‘nd who knows what happened ta the father.” Dante said and placed his hand on his chest. “One of those twins, the better one in every aspect, happen t’be Dante, ‘nd the useless one ‘s…”

 

“Vergil.” You finished for him, a frown marring your face. The man from earlier, the man in blue taunting your consciousness… You couldn’t understand why you would be taken aback by Vergil when Dante had just revealed to you that his father was a demon which meant that demons existed, demons existed and could interact with humans, demons existed and standing in front of you; Dante and Nero were two of them. Much to your horror, that didn’t terrify you as much as it should have and your thoughts wandered to the lost twin. Dante looked surprised by your answer and was rendered speechless for a while, and Nero, by the looks of it, seemed equally taken aback by the fact that you would have this information; though you would say he was more surprised about learning more of Dante’s past than your knowing it. By the way he looked at Dante for confirmation, you could see that Dante didn’t shared this piece of information with him. Dante’s lips remained parted and you could see the gears turning and clicking into place in his head, so you took this surprise to continue. “He was born… born earlier, the older twin. He was seventeen minutes older than you. But that’s all in past tense… right? Why, he died? He died…” Your head, it hurt. Nothing, none of this made sense yet everything from earlier clicked into place. You couldn’t understand anything at all, your brain couldn’t catch up with it but you already knew what you were trying to understand; you had always known. “No, consumed. His soul was… He’s not Vergil anymore, is he?” When you looked at Dante, you could see it in his blue orbs. The regret, the guilt, the pain, the agony, the loneliness, all concealed professionally beneath layers of sarcasm. All this time, he had been carrying something so heavy over his shoulders.

 

You could feel your heart clench in pain, your eyes watered and a few tears rolled down your cheeks. Why were you crying? Were you crying for yourself or for his dead brother? Why were you so sad? You knew why you were so sad, but it just didn’t make sense to you to be sad over this. But you deserved to be, didn’t you? Why did you feel as if you couldn’t save him, why, why, you should have, you should have talked him out of it. (But that’s not the reason why he died.) It was all your fault that you let him fall into the hellgate. (No, he wanted to.) Why did you let him choose his pride? (It wasn’t that, he wanted to, he wanted to die.) He could have lived— (He wanted to die if it meant saving his little brother.) You furiously wiped your tears away, not understanding your feelings. Why were you so torn over the death of someone you had never seen once before in your life? “You… Dante… You blame yourself.” You concluded. Just like last time, when you felt things on Nero’s behalf. It didn’t make sense, yet you couldn’t understand why you would be crying over a dead man otherwise. Those were Dante’s demons swimming in your head; so strong-willed, so persistent that they dominated your fears and questions and confusions. “You fought on that day, under the rain, on that tower. He fell on that day. To save you. So you could live.”

 

It all made sense to you. It shouldn’t have, you couldn’t understand why it felt so natural, you couldn’t understand how easily you were able to digest the revelation that demons in fact existed, that you had been chased and hurt by one, that the man you had known for a long time and the man you figured to have fallen in love with were half demons themselves. But it did, almost as if you had always known that they were peculiar, otherworldly. You had always known they were different, something else, something not quite human; and it didn’t make any sense because you hadn’t, there was no way you could have known, there was no way you could have understood this and accepted it. There was no way, no way, no way demons existed but you were talking to them; you had _seen_ one, been _chased_ by one. This was too much for you to take, it really was, your brain couldn’t catch up with the knowledge you seemed to have already had, making you feel nauseous, making your head hurt even more.

 

“Guess he was right ‘bout you.” Dante said after a moment of silence and labored breathing, coming to stand in front of you. You looked up at him to find his smile gone and his eyebrows drawn together in suspicion, as if he were eyeing you, as if you were his enemy rather an ally when you didn’t even have an idea as to why all of this was happening. It was the same look from before, it was one that you recognized to be the one he shot you when your nose bled in the bar and you had to shake yourself out of it. You wanted to ask who, but the door opened and your reply came walking in. There stood your boss, his black sunglasses in place. You wanted to believe it wasn’t him, that you were delusional, because you didn’t want him to have been deluding you for so long. Had he been in this all along? Had he known about all of this? Had he known that Dante and Nero were not human and had he known that demons existed all along? That was the reason why he sent Nero with you. Nero’s arm was never broken, of course he would know that; why would he call an injured young man to assist you otherwise? He could defend himself against his own kind. He knew that the attacks, the supposed ‘killer’ in Anaon was a demon. He knew all of that. He always had, and he fooled you. He led you on. You wanted to spit on his face and curse at him but you didn’t have the energy to. Your body felt numb and your mind had slowed considerably as it tried to process everything it was being fed incessantly but failed, resulting in its short circuit. That was a lie, all of this was a lie. You had been attacked, and you were in a coma. You would wake up one day and remember all of this as an unpleasant dream. A dream, you didn’t know anything. It wasn’t that you didn’t know anything, things like these just _couldn’t_ exist, could they?

 

“I see you’re awake.” Lester addressed to you, but your eyes were once again glued to the wooden floor. If all of this were true and everyone you knew was included in this gigantic mess, what did that make you? The biggest goddamn idiot for being led on by everyone, so damn effortlessly? Were you that naïve? You had been suspicious of Dante and Nero’s profession, and maybe what they did at night, but to doubt their _humanity_? That was something you had never even thought of doing. Were you asking for too much?  Your boss came walking in, and you were sure he knew about all of this. What did he hide behind his sunglasses; was he the same? Was he even a human? What would you do, how could you get yourself out of this mess? Would you ever be able to? This would follow you everywhere, even if you were to run away and never see none of them again, you would live with the knowledge of demons existing. You would know that, no one else. You wouldn’t be able to share this with anyone else because they would laugh at you, call you crazy and even lock you up. Even if you didn’t tell about it to anyone else you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you nearly died when the demons you now knew to exist hurt you so badly. You wouldn’t be able to go out at night because you would be scared. You wouldn’t be able to defend yourself even if you trained yourself, you could tell just by knowing the way it grasped your ankle that you couldn’t beat that thing down with punches and kicks. You would be dead, or you would live the rest of your life in constant paranoia at best. Not to mention the weird visions; they were actually real. Previously, you felt Nero’s feelings but thought them as your own, brushed the voice inside your head when it told you that they weren’t yours. You cried today, you felt so sad and broken and guilty about not being able to save the twin brother you didn’t have. Everything that you had seen in those dreams were true, what did that make you? “You weren’t yet when I came earlier, so I figured I’d close the bar and come here.”

 

“Figures y’were right ‘bout her bein’ one after all, L. I called it bullshit at ferst but… She knows V was the older one. Nobody knows V was the older one.” Dante said, looking at Lester. You didn’t even have the energy or the will to follow the conversation anymore, you were just tired. You wanted to go back to sleep and wake up with all your wounds and cuts healed, with everything you had seen happened as just a bad, bad nightmare.  Lester sighed and rubbed his temples with a hand, head turned in your general direction. “I told ya. I wasn’t sure until now either, but if you are then it must be…” He trailed off, and Dante continued, looking at you. The fact that they were talking about you as if you weren’t here or couldn’t hear them, as if you were an object made you want to punch dome sense into both of them so hard. But you didn’t even attempt to move a finger. Would you ever be okay with this? “Yeah. No doubt ‘bout it. She knows ‘bout me and V, ‘nd probably more ‘bout the kid than we do.” The need to curl into a ball and cry until all your tears dried and you wouldn’t be able to shed them anymore was overwhelming, but it wouldn’t help anything. With each passing second, with each sentence spoken; the fact that all of this was in fact real came crashing on you, heavy on your shoulders. You looked at the inside of your bandaged hands before bringing them to your face and rubbing it, feeling your left eye and cheeks sting in pain. They seemed to know more about you than you had ever known about yourself. Too much, it was just too much to take in. “What the hell am I? How do I know all of this? Dante, I’m begging you, tell me… Who are you people, who are you, Lester? What the hell am I? What is wrong with me…?” You trailed off, voice broken and cracked.

 

“Oh, my baby… My girl, nothin’s wrong with you, I swear.” Lester cooed and you heard his steps as he neared, taking a seat next to you. He was careful not to irritate your wounds and further when he placed his left hand on your back and stroked your back in an attempt to soothe you. You never realized how much you needed the consolation until he offered you some, feeling your tears flow freely into your hands, your shoulders shake as you sobbed into your palms silently. You still couldn’t believe all of this was happening, all of this was real. “Listen, listen to me. It’s fine, we’re gonna tell you everything. You’re gonna get better, there’s nothing wrong with you. Take it slow, jus’ ask me anythin’.” Lester said, his hand was on your shoulder now. You felt the words tangle in your throat and nothing you wanted to ask came out other than the one that you couldn’t grasp the most. “Are they… Are demons really real?”  You managed to peek between your fingers and saw Lester nod his head, his lips were pursed into a tight line. He was ready to offer you some explanations after so long of being left in the dark, especially since it was now revealed that you were somehow involved in all of this. You took a deep breath and looked at him, your hands on your lap. “Are you one too, boss?”

 

Lester shook his head in turn and took off his glasses, which you could now see, was only to conceal his white irises. You couldn’t help a gasp and attempted to move away from him as a natural reaction. You couldn’t take your eyes from his yellow sclera and white eyes, yet at the same time, you were terrified by the revelation. “I’m a Nosferatu.” He said and when you remained oblivious to its meaning, he continued. “Long ago up in the heavens, there was a battle. Some of the angels rebelled and spoke back against the rest and when the angels won, were condemned and turned into demons and banished from the heavens forever. Some like me, however, chose not to take sides and disrespect the sacred and waited for the war to come to an end. When it had, we were marked traitors and banished from the grace to live eternally in the limbo as material beings whose reflection would shine in the human world but could never be rescued from the limbo where they were trapped.” He paused, letting you comprehend whatever he had said so far patiently. “Bulls Eye you work in is a bar, and in the human world, everyone thinks you own that place and I’m just the bartender.” He said and watched as confusion marred your face, unable to understand what he really meant. “I govern its reflection in limbo where I offer accommodation to sane Nosferatu who slay the insane ones. There, they see you but can only look at your reflection and long for the life you have.”

 

“And… And what am I?” You asked shakily, afraid of the answer he would provide you with. “One hundred percent, pure human.” Lester said, which shocked you that he didn’t say you were some incredulous Latin word and belonged to an ancient race. He chuckled at your confusion, you must have made a face that made you look like you wanted to be more than a human; however you were content with the revelation. “There are times, when people who are as pure as angels are born on earth. When they come, a guardian angel is sent to look after them and they can help those pure souls in time of need if they wish to.” He said, misleading you. He averted his gaze from yours and looked at Dante and Nero, who was standing next to each other and listening to the conversation intently. Nero no longer looked agonized but rather upset, whereas Dante had his arms crossed over his chest and his look had softened. “When I first met you, you talked to my daughter. I knew it then. I don’t have a daughter, not anymore. She’s a beloved one up in the skies, cross my heart, I thought I had died when you said that my daughter wanted you to tell me that she was fine where she was and that she would always love me. Then I… I owe you an apology for prying into your life like that, but I asked Dante to look into your past. Your mother and father married, but had you six years later. Turns out either one of them wasn’t productive. Dante found out that your mother, a pure soul, prayed to God every day for him to give her a child. So an angel kissed your soul and blessed them with you. The child ‘s called an ‘Angel Kissed’. They’re spoken of in the legends and are said to have special abilities, but I’ve never seen one ‘till I met you.”

 

You were absolutely and utterly shocked. Lester looked into your past? What did he mean by that?! Did they find your parents and talk to them? You had never known that Dante talked to your mother and asked her about you, you should have known because she would have called you and told you about the weird, muscular man with white hair and how he asked about you. “How would you know about my mom’s soul, purity and all that?” Had they done something to her? The thought dreaded you even though you believed they wouldn’t have done something like that and you frowned deeply, voice having hardened. “Did you do something to my mother?” Lester’s eyes widened at that and he shook his hands negative. “No, of course not! One day, Tony Redgrave happened to lose his way and knocked on your door. Your mother offered him some tea and directions, and they made some small talk, is all. That’s not what Dante does, y’know?”

 

“No, you tell me. What does he even do?” You replied in frustration as you were angered by Lester’s words. He spoke as if you had always known Dante, but you just found out that you knew absolutely nothing about anyone around you at all. You didn’t know who Dante really was and what he did for a living; you didn’t know why he did whatever it was that he did and you didn’t know what he was driven by. You didn’t know why Nero was with him, you didn’t know who Nero was, you didn’t know what they were doing together; you didn’t know their relation. You certainly didn’t know that they were half demons until your head had been bashed by a demon. “A demon hunter.” Dante replied for you and you turned your head to look at him, brows drawn in a line. He was a demon himself and he killed demons for a living? “Dun gimme that face, we dun go around tellin’ people we slay demon ass fer a livin’, that’d make ‘em do things I dun even wanna witness.” Dante scolded and shrugged, “Might have my old man’s blood but I grew up ‘ere as a human, in a lovin’ home ‘til V and I hit 8 ‘nd got caught in a shit storm. ‘S simple, ‘s what I do, ‘cause not everyone else can protect themselves from those demons ‘nd I’d be damned t’let ‘em run around in my home. I run here, this shop. I got regulars, wanderers, and this kid ta look after when they give me a ring. What the government can’t handle, yer friendly neighborhood demon hunters do.”

 

You looked down again, contemplating his words. This, all of this, was way too much for you to take in all in one night. Nero and Dante were half humans, and half devils. Your boss who helped you out so far was pretty much a fallen angel who had only done so because apparently you were born with a strange gift. You had been attacked and you had no idea how many days passed since that incident, you nearly died and was saved by…? Who even saved you? “How did you guys find me?” You found yourself asking, brows drawn together in confusion. You had no choice but to accept things as they were, however your brain couldn’t quite catch up with every single thing that was being presented to you. Trying to understand that beings like demons and angels existed was hard enough as it is, but to think you would come to meet three, to think you’d be attacked by one, to think you’d even be involved with one albeit indirectly and out of your control. Lester sighed at your question and Dante shook his head. “The kid did.” Nero found you? How did that happen? He couldn’t have been there at the same time as you, it was just too much of a coincidence t be true. You weren’t that lucky, you had never been. You saw him nudge Nero forward, for which he gave him a death glare but didn’t complain otherwise. Once he saw that you were looking at him, Nero self-consciously hid his right arm behind his back once again and rubbed the back of his neck with his left.

 

“I… I heard you.” Nero said, not quite meeting your eyes as his hand fell to his side. “I heard your screams. I felt it, the way you, uh… y’know... I could only guess where y’were  since we’ve been after this sonuvabitch fer a while, so I came fast as I could. But y’weren’t there. This, uh… There’s this tale sortsa thing, where an old fart protects the area or sumethin’. Seems he killed the damn thing that did this to ya ‘nd fled. So I rushed back ‘ere ta get ya better. I thought you—” You knew where this was going and you didn’t need to feel the way he felt like you had with Dante to know that; you could see it swimming in his blue orbs. The hesitation, the regret, the guilt. He thought you rejected him, when you were just lost. He thought you couldn’t accept him when what you couldn’t accept was the idea of otherworldly beings living in the same world as you. He thought he wouldn’t be able to save you when he didn’t even have any obligations to do so. You recognized it; the pull, the affection. Had he left because he didn’t want you to be involved in this life? He didn’t want you to experience what you had, because of him? Was that the reason why he took a step back when you thought you were walking towards each other? Did he only want to protect you even if that meant he had to hurt you himself? Would he give you another chance if things had been different? “No, no. Nero, I’m fine. You couldn’t have known…” Nero didn’t reply though, a deep frown marring his face. “How long has it been since I— y’know. Since then?”

 

“Two days.” Lester replied. “You’ve been out for two days. I was getting’ worried. Thank gods I had an ancient, aged concentrated angel feathers that helped close your wounds faster. Don’t gimme that face, it’s not that bad. It’s thanks to the potion you’re alive.” You wanted to say you couldn’t believe it and that it was impossible, but what was ‘impossible’ anymore? You would have said it to be impossible for demons and angels to exist and kill humans before, but would you now, now that two half devils were in front of you and one fallen angel was sitting next to you? What had become of your perception of impossible? What were you to do with all this newly found information; more importantly, those ‘special abilities’ of yours. “How come I never… How come I’ve never, ever noticed that? I only figured something was wrong when I touched Nero and… And then I saw something, and I thought I was going crazy. How come I just—” You trailed off, not knowing how to express yourself properly anymore. You had no idea, if you were born like this, with a soul kissed by an angel as they claimed you to be, you would have had those abilities from birth, wouldn’t you? You would have known them, you would have recognized them and understood them. You would have known what you were, who you were, what you were capable of and maybe you would have had less difficulty coming to terms with everything. How had you been oblivious; blind to the blatant truth in front of you all along? “It happens.” Dante offered and when you looked at him questioningly, he just shrugged with both palms open on either side. “Hey, y’never know what yer capable of. I didn’t ‘till my brother impaled me through the goddamn chest with my own sword. Apparently demon blood had iron deficiency or somethin’ before kickin’ ‘cause apparently ‘s how it works.”

 

How would that even work? You hadn’t been impaled by your own nonexistent sword nor had you ever had a near death experience to trigger your ‘abilities’. You had been attacked and nearly died, for sure, but that was way later into the story, wasn’t it? You had the images when… Of course, you should have known, you should have figured it out; you first had them when you first touched Nero, and then had a peek into Dante’s past when he wiped the blood of your nose. “I seen it.” Lester said, making you look at him. “You first talked to my girl when I shook your hand and probably seen whatever you had when you touched Nero ‘nd Dante. Dunno, maybe ‘s got something to do with that, eh?” You didn’t know; how were you supposed to know what it had to do when they were the ones who knew more about you than you knew about yourself, the past hour was spent with their explaining to you how the real world actually worked, which made you nauseous and hurt your head. When you left all that aside, your body hurt. It hurt really badly, and you would have apparently died had it not been for Lester’s help. You had been told things you would have never believed but the soreness of your body and your injuries; your boss’ mysterious white on yellow eyes and Nero’s demonic arm was more than enough evidence. You closed your eyes. What if this was another dream, one that felt painfully real but one you would wake up from? What if all of this was a play of your own imagination, what then?

 

“Better get going.” Lester said, and you felt the mattress move as he got up. “It’s best if you stay here for a few days, ‘till you get better. You’re the safest when you’re around these two, plus they’ve got some killing to do.” Did you even have any other choice? Even sitting up abruptly almost resulted in your passing out, how could you possibly walk out of the door and go home, go on with your life? You had nothing you could do, not a thing at all, other than try to get better and… And then what? What would you do? To think you were stupid enough to worry about such trivial things as not wanting to be left in an awkward situation with Nero… Now you were only grateful for his help, you were grateful that he had heard you and came for you, you were grateful. You owed him your life; but in the end, weren’t you still stuck with him in an awkward situation. You closed your eyes and held onto the edge of the couch, trying to lie down without disturbing your wounds the best as you could.

 

You just needed some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a lot to digest, huh? The story is slowly progressing where I want it to, I hope you enjoy it! I would appreciate if you shared your comments and concerns, thank you.


	11. fated;

_You just needed some sleep._

 

When you woke up, you saw that nothing had changed, even though you had always known deep down that it wouldn’t ever. That was, other than your life, of course. Would your life ever go back to being ‘normal’? What defined ‘normal’ anymore; you had absolutely no clue. You were going to graduate and get a job; you had been doing so well, too, until all of this happened and you had seen none of it coming. Could you go on living as if nothing had ever happened? Would you even _want_ to anymore now that you were enlightened with a sacred knowledge? What would you do from now on? While you might not have to think about all that just yet, given the physical and mental condition you were in you would have to stay in Devil May Cry for a while, you would eventually have to consider it; your future. What would you do about your position in Abraxas? You could always say that you went through a terrible accident that deemed you unable to move a finger; however you were sure they would request a prescription signed by the doctor assigned to your treatment. Even if you were to show them your bruises, there was a high chance of your only looking even shadier; they could think that you got into a fight instead of an accident and obtained injuries in the process. They needed people who would help their company advance further and improve while maintaining its public image; not damage its reputation by employing those getting into fights, or being chased and nearly killed by a demon in your case, and sitting in their office with black eyes. You also needed to figure something out about your education. You would graduate in less than a month and thankfully directorate showed significantly more tolerance to seniors than juniors. Your rector was a sweet woman who was also your pronunciation professor and admittedly, you had always been one of her favorite students due to the interest and participation you constantly showed in her class. You would always come prepared for the lecture and not leave without asking her some questions about the lecture or at least about her day; you two got pretty close over the years spent together. She would be understanding if you told her that you had a terrible accident that left you scarred, you hoped. It was your last year, last semester and you didn’t have to lose credit and take another year again; as fun as it was to be a university student, you were ready to be an adult, and you would be damned to let something like this prevent you from completing your education.

 

You would somehow manage to handle your university and you could always look for another job if things didn’t work out with Abraxas, but would you ever be able to get over the fact that your boss who showed you so much understanding and tolerance when you needed it the most was actually a fallen angel, that a customer whom you always liked due to his playfulness and carefree attitude was the son of a legendary demon that helped his brother conquer hell itself, that the boy from Fortuna Island where they worshipped that customer’s father as a god was also a successor of the same demon? Maybe you would be able to forget everything that happened if you left the city as soon as you could walk and never came again, maybe you could pretend and fool yourself that it was all a very bad, very long nightmare you couldn’t wake up from; however even then, you wouldn’t be able to run away from yourself. You apparently were ‘a human with special abilities’ as they described you; an Angel Kissed. You had never known, you could have never guessed. You grew up as a normal child, you weren’t too popular but you had friends you could play with. You weren’t a genius in class but you were successful enough because you studied. You weren’t an athletic goddess nor were you a prodigy. You were just you, you had always been you and you thought that you knew this ‘you’ but apparently you hadn’t.

 

You had previously thought that you were going insane due to the visions you had when you held Nero’s hand to usher him out and when Dante touched you to help wipe your nose. You had thought that you needed help, and even when Lester provided you with an explanation; you weren’t sure. But everything in your being was fighting your logic; every single thing offered proved you wrong. You couldn’t have been dreaming or making up things then; because Dante confirmed it. Dante confirmed having a twin brother who had long ago lost his soul stuck in the depths of hell; that he was indeed born seventeen minutes prior to him. Lester had too, revealed to you at last that his daughter was an angel. You remembered her, you remembered talking to her. She looked to be in her adolescence and had bright blonde hair that reached to her waist and was braided which was decorated with many, many flowers. A fair complexion, almost as if her skin was sparkling beneath her white sundress. Her eyes were… You couldn’t remember her eyes until you thought about them thoroughly. Bright, white irises over yellow. Why had you never noticed her eyes, nor remembered that they were uniquely peculiar? _(Because she made sure you wouldn’t.)_ Even if you were to run away today, nothing would change as you would always be who you were; you would always have this, you would carry it with you wherever you went regardless. You didn’t want to go, anyway. You wanted to stay where you thought you belonged. _(Where people would accept you for who you were and what you could do, people like Dante and Nero and Lester.)_ How would all of this affect you? Where would you end up? How far could you see? What could you do?

 

Your head hurt from everything. Nothing had changed, at all. Nothing changed when you were asleep and nothing changed in the last five minutes you spent looking at the fan rotating above you, secured to the ceiling, trying to wake up from your sleepy state. You were still you, you were where you closed your eyes to sleep last night; on Dante’s leather couch. You still had a blanket draped over your aching frame to keep you warm, and everything still hurt terribly; from the very tips of your toes to your head. You closed your eyes; everything was same about that fateful night in Anaon when you almost died, tattooed on the back of your eyelids to taunt you for an eternity. You were still very thirsty and hungry and you still felt dizzy from everything combined, yet a part of you still couldn’t quite believe that you were living in a world full of demons and angels and that you had somehow gotten involved in all of this. You opened your eyes again and set them on the fan. All your worries, your fears, your terrible dreams were cast aside due to your fatigue and instead your senses focused on the environment you were in. The battered jukebox was silent; it was awfully quiet in the shop. Where were they?

 

Your eyes roamed the place and settled on the figure sprawled on Dante’s desk. It was none other than Nero and he was sitting on Dante’s chair, had both his booted feet secured on the wooden surface of the desk, resulting in the chair beneath him standing only on two of its back legs. He was wearing worn blue jeans and a black zip hoodie, and his bulky arms were crossed over his chest. You noted the way his head was bowed slightly, his white locks framing his face beautifully. His blue eyes were closed, and his chest moved with each breath he inhaled and exhaled; you figured he had fallen asleep on his watch over you. He looked so peaceful, beautiful then; so utterly mesmerizing that you would have never believed, not for a second, him to have the blood of a demon running in his veins. His milky complexion was void of any flaws and his cheeks were slightly tinged in his resting state, his snowy white locks were rich and smooth, slightly curled around the edges and his plump lips were a soft pink. He looked so beautiful, and you didn’t have to acknowledge it consciously to know that you could spend the rest of your entire life looking at him, admiring him, adoring him, loving him. It was hard to believe that he wasn’t exactly the same as everyone else, same as you; but you weren’t like everyone else either. You figured he had to be, he was different in every aspect; from the way his white locks made him stand out and his demonic right arm, covered by black. The arm you had seen in your dream once, the dream that made you sick to the core and made you want to cry the second you acknowledged it; the dream in which he stood so helplessly where he was impaled to the wall by a sword through his chest, the dream in which he bled out to his demise and could do nothing about it. Your eyes widened in realization. It had happened. One day, he had lived that very moment, and that was the reason why you saw it. Just like with Dante; they weren’t dreams, they were their memories, perhaps significant moments in their lives. It had happened, then. Nero was on the verge of death which he battled and won as he was napping in front of your eyes. Nero was hurt, Nero was hurt badly and he went through something horrible and he lived. You casted the thoughts aside when your eyes started to burn with unshed tears for him, for his pain. You didn’t have any right to cry for him if he didn’t.

 

The grumble of your stomach helped you out of your daze. You were hungry, you really were. You hadn’t eaten anything in days at all, and you were starving. You needed to get something to eat, however you didn’t have it in you to ask Nero for help when he was sleeping, when he had done so much for you in the first place, anyway. You could help yourself; maybe you could find something in the shop if you investigated the kitchen? Dante was quite fond of pizza, after all. You pushed the blanket draped over you off your frame with your non-dominant hand as the other still hurt terribly and curled your fingers around the edge of the couch so you could pull yourself up. The dull ache in your chest was intensified by your movement and you felt as if your own ribs were stabbing you on the inside. It made a whine leave your lips but you were either too stubborn or too hungry to give up just yet so you kept ascending to sit, a groan on your lips. Even your hips hurt. You would need to move your legs off the couch next it you wanted to get up, and that was the real challenge, because the slightest of movement made you want to claw them out than endure the pain. Not to mention your ankle had been cut deeply by one of the limbs of that thing, so you would have to hold onto something and make sure not to put too much pressure on that foot. You sighed and planted your good palm on the couch so you could maneuver your legs off the couch slowly; your eyes were shut tightly and teeth clenched as you moved one leg off. One more to go.

 

“Hey, hey! Dun move, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” You stopped in your tracks at Nero’s voice and your eyes opened wide, in a ridiculous position with one foot on the floor and the other leg on the couch. You must have woken him up from his nap by groaning and shuffling everything around you. Being caught red-handed caused your cheeks to flush heavily, and you were rendered useless as Nero hurried to you with large steps. “Geez, what the hell were y’even thinkin’?” He scolded you, leaned down to your height and placed his left hand on your back and his gloved right hand on your left thigh so he could support your weight and help you lay back down, though you placed your good hand on his chest to stop him. That seemed to take him off guard and he frowned at you questioningly when he paused, blue orbs demanding a valid excuse, his hands refusing to move. You felt smaller under his insistent gaze and your cheeks flushed further given the lack of distance between the two of you and the shameless admission you were to make. “I was just—” You trailed off, voice small. “I was just… hungry.” You were embarrassed since this wasn’t your household and you felt as if you were being shameless and crossing a line by declaring that so openly as you didn’t want to imply that they were bad guests and possibly hurt their feelings by saying that, but you were honestly starving. Nero’s features softened and his eyes widened a little, almost as if he just realized that you hadn’t eaten anything in three days at all and you offered him a small smile and looped your good arm around his neck to support yourself so you could shift your other leg off the couch as well and sit properly on the couch, heaving a sigh of relief. “Huh, yer legs sore? Here, lemme help—” Your maneuver seemed to snap him out of his daze and he dutifully pulled his right hand away and held it out of sight behind his back and instead helped you with his left so you could lean back against the couch and support your back.

 

“Sorry, dun think Dante has anythin’ other than cold pizza with fungi.” Nero offered once you were sitting properly and rubbed the back of his neck, head turned in the direction of the small kitchen-like part of the room. His words made you realize that the elder male was nowhere to be seen; it seemed to be just you and Nero in the office. “Wait here.” He told you and walked out of sight, though you asked loud enough for him to hear. “Where’s Dante?” His voice was similarly louder for you to perceive his words easily over the sound of cupboards being opened and closed, and clang of glasses. “Out kickin’ ass.” You would have wondered what exactly that was if he told you the same thing a few nights ago but now that you had a very clear knowledge of Dante’s profession, you could draw a detailed picture. Dante the demon hunter; sounded absolutely horrible. How could he not be fazed in the slightest by something like that? The concept was very new and foreign to you, but you figured being a demon himself meant he would have to grow up hand in hand with spiritual and supernatural concepts like these; he must have been doing this for a very long time now to be so comfortable doing it. “Yeah, nothin’ edible in there. Got only water for now.” Nero came back with a glass of water which you took when he offered it to you and generously gulped down its contents; still somewhat grateful. “I’ll go fetch you somethin’, whaddaya wanna eat?” That seemed to sober you a little; the fact that Nero would be willing to go buy you something to eat made you feel fuzzy in the stomach even though you were admittedly slightly mad at yourself for letting yourself harbor these feelings for him even when he rejected you so blatantly no matter the reason behind it. You still couldn’t help flushing a pretty pink though, thinking you could get away with a nervous laughter. “You don’t have to, really—” Nero shrugged and placed his hands in the pockets of his zip hoodie before shooting you a smirk that left you breathless. “Well, guess I gotta decide fer ya, then.”

 

Nero walked out of the door and left you alone with nothing but your heart trying to beat itself out of your chest for some twenty minutes. Your mind was occupied by how deep you were in this; in the blueness of his eyes, the way his hair framed his fair complexion and in the way his lips were complimented by his skin. Were you an idiot for feeling this strongly about him when you just learned yesterday that he was half a demon, when you saw his arm for yourself up close? Were you an idiot for slowly falling for a man who could kill you in a second if he wanted to? You wanted to say you were, but you stopped short when you realized that Nero was neither of these things for you. Nero might have been half a devil, but he had a heart bigger than nations. His arm said nothing about his personality; after all, it was up to him how to use and what to use it for as it didn’t have a mind of its own. He could have gone harnessing its full power and destroying the world with the power it granted him like some cheap evil mind, but instead he used it to fight; fight for the world he lived in and fight for those who needed it. The way it looked or what it could do didn’t matter in the slightest; because it belonged to Nero that it didn’t bother you, it didn’t scare you away as it should have. Nero wouldn’t harm you, this you knew. Sure, he could kill you in the blink of an eye if he wanted to, but that didn’t mean he would; otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble to bring you here and try to save you in the first place. How odd, how peculiar to have all your beliefs shattered so simply; all your life, you thought that demons were only capable of calamity and evil and manipulated people away from the right path that was God’s. Here you were, saved, being taken care of, looked after by two of them.

 

As you were consumed by your train of thoughts leaned into the couch to get some rest, the door opened. How long had Nero been gone? These days, your perception of time seemed to have changed. It would go by faster and you wouldn’t even realize it which wasn’t at all like you given how much you disliked wasting time and doing nothing; you hated waiting and you hated making people wait. To think Nero could make a trip to get some food and come back without your even getting tired of being all alone cramped in a room having nothing to do; did it have something to do with your injured state or that newly discovered ‘abilities’ of yours, you didn’t know yet. Nero walked in and ran a hand through his disheveled locks to make them fall back in place. Had he run all the way? It didn’t seem like it, because he didn’t look out of breath and hadn’t broken into sweat at all. You recalled his having a motorbike with which he drove you to get some supplies earlier, so he must have rode to wherever he thought was the best.

 

“Hey.” You greeted him and he offered you a small smile before walking up to you. He was holding a large bag that had a very similar logo on it. “Bulls Eye?” You questioned and carefully moved a little to right as if indicating you wanted him to sit down next to you, and though he looked a little hesitant at first, it wasn’t for long; he nodded positive as he flopped himself beside you. “Yeah, thought your old man would know the best. Cooked y’up some lobster pasta and fancy ass puddin’ to spoil ya. Also a new bottle o’that angel wing thing ‘cause apparently you need s’more.” The thought immediately put a smile to your face, you knew what Nero was talking about, the smell gave it away already; pasta all’aragosta and Amaretto pudding. Of course boss would want to pamper you after everything that had happened, and it made you fuzzy inside to know that he cared about you; he was the one who saved you after all, and these little things made you realize that you really, really treasured him and his help so far. He looked out for you and made sure you wouldn’t stray somewhere he couldn’t make sure you were okay, and you couldn’t even return half of the favor.

 

Nero placed the bag on the floor, stuffed his left hand into his left pocket of his jeans to snatch a small bottle and handed it to you. You took it and inspected its contents verily, not quite trusting it. “Looks very shady.” You commented and Nero only offered you a slight smirk. Before you could go through the trouble trying to open the bottle, he helped you by helping you hold it firm and unscrewing the top, earning a thanks from you. You brought the bottle closer to your nose to sniff its contents before drinking it, and it made you want to gag and throw up already. “C’mon, ‘m havin’ none of it.” Nero encouraged you when you made a face at the smell of the dense liquid, raising an eyebrow at you. “Bottoms up, princess.” You didn’t know whether it was the way he looked at you or the unforeseen pet name he called you by that made you chug the whole thing at once, head thrown back to somewhat conceal your flushed cheeks from him. Despite its horrible smell, it actually had a distinct citrus flavor and wasn’t bad, which concerned you a little given that was supposed to be the extract of angels’ wings. “Not bad?” Nero asked you and you saw his shoulders shake in a silent chuckle. Nevertheless, your whole being felt better after having drank the thing; your chest was no longer disturbed by your broken ribs and your fingers had gotten easier to move somehow and even though you still felt your pulse in your ankle, it didn’t hurt much anymore. You would need more of this thing if it would make you feel this good every time you had some of it. “Oh, not bad at all.” You replied and heard a shuffle and saw that Nero took out two small boxes and forks from the bag in which he brought them.

 

“It looks delicious!” You chuckled lightly and gratefully took the box Nero opened for you and accepted the fork that Lester gave it with knowing Dante would have no need for such a thing. Even though it was your non-dominant hand that held the fork, you tried the best you could by stabbing it into the pasta and twirling it until you were sure you got all the threads in one bite. It was a big one and you definitely didn’t mind, the enchanting smell only served to make you realize just how starved you were. You were already chewing your third bite when Nero replied. “Sure is, he knows his way ‘round in kitchen.” He gave affirmative after having swallowed his bite as well, wielding his fork with his gloved right hand. You noted the way he wore a long sleeved zip hoodie and a glove on that hand to cover his right arm around you since you knew he didn’t necessarily cover his arm when he was in Devil May Cry, and recognized that he had only done so due to your misleading reaction the other day. After having seen it for the first time, you pulled your hand away from his right one as if it had been burnt and incredulously asked him what he was. You recalled the way he looked so dejected then, he must have been insecure about it all along given the way he hid it, and was willing to go back to hiding it around you after your rejection; you had been so inconsiderate. You had said something horrible to someone who wasn’t okay with it; it might not have been something he wanted to live with and something he wanted to be a part of him but had no other choice as he was simply born that way. You suddenly seemed to lose all your interest in the food in front of you; your brows furrowed and your lips pursed. How could you be so horrible? You thought for a brief second that maybe you were being hard on yourself as you didn’t even know demons existed until yesterday and you were already doing so well accepting the fact and living with it, but soon your immense guilt overpowered all those logical thoughts of yours.

 

You needed to apologize to him. You actually needed to talk to him. You owed him a series of apologizes and thanks, along with your life of course. And there he was, going out and getting you food even thought he had pretty much no reason to do so. You felt his eyes on you as he chewed his bite, and saw a frown marring his flawless features when he saw you place the box of food on your lap and the fork in it as if you had lost your appetite, which you had. “Nero… I— I need to thank you for all of this.” You said and looked at him, and his frown seemed to dissolve at that, swallowing the food in his mouth before he spoke. “Oh, the food? Yeah, no big deal. Was getting’ sick o’pizza anyway.” You pressed your lips into a tight line and shook your head, slightly turning your body so you could look at him without having to crane your neck. “That too, Nero, but I… I’m really grateful for you and everything you’ve done for me when you had no reason to. You… You saved my life. If I’m sitting here with you and having this conversation, it’s all thanks to you. I would have died if it weren’t for you. I owe you countless thanks and my life.”

 

 Nero’s lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but you beat him to it. “And I’m so sorry for being horrible to you so far. About what happened the night before I got… you know. I was being an asshole misreading your kindness and trying to force myself into your life in a more intimate way. And I’m so sorry for crossing a line, I never meant to push you away because even if it’s your friendship I get to have, I should’ve treasured it instead of violating it. It’s not even like me, and I don’t know what came over me to initiate that. I don’t think I’ve ever liked someone so much to the point of… doing that.” You were babbling; everything in your mind was coming out of your mouth like a thread being pulled, and you couldn’t stop now. “And About the other night, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ever asked you that. I’m sorry I make you so uncomfortable that you feel the need to cover up. I’m spry you thought that I don’t accept you for who you are, but the thing I couldn’t accept was the idea itself, not you. I need you to know that. I need you to know that I’m very, very sorry and I hope you can be somewhat okay with me.”

 

You were done, your face was burning and so were your eyes with unshed tears. You couldn’t cry in front of him now, even if it took its load on you to be so blatantly honest with him about everything you were feeling. Amidst your blabbering, you even confessed to him that you never liked anyone before as much as you liked him and that alone was enough to humiliate you but what scared you the most, what made your heart beat so fast in fear was the possibility of his giving affirmative; confirming every single word that just rolled out of your mouth and saying that he hated it, he hated every second he had to spend with you, hated the way you held hands and the way your lips met his, hated the way he had to do all of this for you. You turned your head away from him and closed your eyes tightly. You wished for his honesty but feared what it might bring it on you as it might as well be calamity and heartbreak. As scary as it was, you were glad that you got a chance to be alone with him and talk about all this before you lost the chance because otherwise, it would have never let your conscience go.

 

“Dun apologize, it ain’t that.” Nero said and made you look at him, seeing the way his brows were furrowed deeply and his icy blue orbs you so loved were set on his food, now also abandoned on his lap. He seemed to be thinking through whatever he had to say, you could see concentration and a series of emotions reflect on his face; regret, guilt, doubt, hate… If he wasn’t ready to open his heart and spill everything in it about you like you had about him, then that was fine with you. It would take you a long time and a lot of courage as well, you just seemed to be someone completely different around Nero. Almost as if he changed you for the better; bolder, more confident in yourself and even though you liked that feeling very much, it didn’t mean that you had the same effect on him as he had on you. Though he seemed to have made up on his mind because he spoke, his eyes still set on the cooling pasta instead of your face. “It ain’t that. I been feelin’ this… weird kinda pull ‘round you. Thought I loved someone before, but figured it wasn’t that kinda love. So when I got ta be around you, I didn’t know what t’do ‘cause my thoughts would get rude and greedy. I never had this kinda thing before so I dunno how it works.” He paused and licked his lips to dampen them, his words having struck you hard. He felt the same about you all along? You hadn’t made up things and misread everything between you because of your infatuation? Your heart sped up, and a red dusted your cheeks, but he had more to say. “And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want you in this life, fallin’ for a monster like me when y’had a chance ta live your life and have a future. It’s not somethin’ that I get ta have, is all.” So he pushed you away for your own safety? He ignored his feelings so you could be safe? He chose to break the both of your hearts instead of have you caught up in all of this and hurt? “See, gets always down ta this.” He gestured you with a jerk of his head in your direction but didn’t look at you. “Y’ended up like this anyway and I couldn’t do jackshit about it...”

 

Nero scoffed and turned his head away from you, the heel of his left foot was tapping on the floor impatiently in a broken rhythm that distracted you. “I felt that too.” You said, and he turned his head to look at you, but didn’t and instead his blue orbs focused on your shoulder. “I still feel that pull, but that’s not the reason I like you. It’s the kindness in your touch, it’s the gentleness in your look, Nero. It’s the way you are as a human being. I might not know enough about the world you’ve been a part of so far, but Nero, I can distinguish a monster. Whatever that thing was that did this to me, it’s a monster because it destroys things just because it’s not capable of creating something else other than destruction. It kills just because it can and hurts people because it makes it happy; that’s a monster. Whatever you are Nero, whatever you might want to be; it’s not a monster.” You said firmly, your words spoken as a matter of fact. You wanted him to be able to see him just like the way you saw him. You wanted him to see how beautiful he was, how gorgeous he was, how unique he was; and none of those were tainted by something monstrous as he claimed to be. Your words seemed to mend something that you had broken before and his eyes met yours at last, this time you could see wonder in them, sparkles of confusion and disbelief; like he admired you, like he was taken aback by your words as if they had never been offered to him by someone else before, like he didn’t quite believe the moment, you, or your sincerity was real. You felt it again, the pull, this time it was material. Around your left pinky finger, insistent. When you looked down at your hand, you could faintly see a thin, red string tied around your finger where you felt the pull. Following it only lead you to Nero’s right wrist, where the string disappeared into his black glove.

 

“May I see it, your arm?” You asked, and he averted his gaze from yours for a moment before placing his still relatively full box of pasta on the floor so he could remove the glove from his right hand, and you mimicked the action so you wouldn’t have to worry about making a mess of the two of you. Enchanting blue became visible to you once again, not for long when Nero sat up properly and unzipped his hoodie. He shrugged the material off, and was left in a navy blue undershirt that exposed both of his arms to you; the toned left one that matched his complexion and the peculiar right one that looked as if it were a piece of art. The fact that he would trust you enough to expose something that dreaded him, something he was so insecure about so openly made your heart flutter with feelings you didn’t even know could harbor, feeling lightheaded. You savored this moment, you basked in his trust in you and you prayed your fingers would work. They didn’t seem to ache with as much pain when you moved them to touch Nero’s right arm, to feel the unfamiliar texture beneath them. He seemed hesitant and dispirited about the whole thing and his fingers twitched when your fingers brushed over them.

 

Your fingertips trailed from the very tips of his claw-like fingers to the back of his hand where the softer skin was replaced by harder, leather-like skin, ever so gentle to make sure that you didn’t cross a line with him or didn’t make him uncomfortable. He seemed to relax more with your soothing, gentle touched and turned his hand with his open palm facing you, and you took this change to run your fingertips over them meekly. Once your fingertips ascended to his wrist though, his nails scratched the inside of his hand and made your shoulders shake in silent laughter when you figured that your touch there tickled him. You couldn’t feel his skin as intimately as you wished to, however, due to the white bandages around your fingers separating his skin from yours. Your touch left his wrist and it made him look at you when you placed your hand on top of his so your covered knuckles would face the inside of his hand. “Can you please remove the bandages?” Nero made a face at that clearly said that he didn’t want to mess around if it would get you hurt. “You sure? There’s a reason why you got ‘em covered.” He warned you, yet you nodded in response, your eyes looking into his with determination. “I know, please do. I want you to, so will you please, Nero?” He looked into your eyes and searched for something that he wouldn’t like, traces of doubt and fear you presumed, and when he found none, his right hand gently palmed the back of yours and the left came to undo the clip that was holding everything together at your wrist. He treated your hand as if it were the most fragile glass in the universe and unrolled the bandages carefully, looping the material around his own two fingers to keep it in a roll. Gradually, your skin was revealed and you observed the way blood on the heel of your palm had dried and formed another skin that would eventually peel off when your hand fully healed. You could see several bruises on your fingers though none of them were broken and you could move them slightly easier now that the bandages were off, and your nails were broken badly; the nail of your middle finger had come off completely and the sight alone made you wince. It would grow back, and it was honestly the least of your worries as you were quite sure you had a few broken ribs and almost had your ankle cut clean off your foot. You could always get a manicure in the future.

 

Nero carefully set the bandage he rolled up aside and you saw spots of red on them where the blood dried on them. When you flexed your fingers, you were careful not to irritate your broken nails, but you made sure they weren’t broken and was relieved with your discovery. Nero, on the other hand, must have been clenching his teeth because his jaw had hardened at the sight of your battered hand, though he made no move to shy away from it so that was a good sign for you. Perhaps he was angry that all of this happened? “It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt.” You lied easily, your eyes on his palm. You would have to ask him later to confirm that, in the end, there was no way this could have been his fault especially when he was the one to save you. Now, the nagging thought in the back of your head urged you to touch his arm, to explore it, to inch closer and figure out all of its differences, perfections and flaws. You closed your palm over his and surprisingly, he was the one to seek more contact and entwine your fingers with his, just like you had when you were out on that day. You wanted to know it, you wanted to understand it; so you could help Nero with the burned he carried whatever you could. So you closed your eyes and asked for its story.

 

_You saw it, a beautiful woman, one of the most beautiful you had ever seen whose beauty would make those who had the fortune of laying their eyes on her envy her glory. She was dressed in a white, long sleeved dress that reached to her ankles where the expensive fabric had a slit through which her black boots reaching just under her knees could be seen. Her silky, auburn locks were brushed into a pony tail and her bangs framed her forehead beautifully. Her honey caramel eyes were full of adoration and happiness. Her plump lips were glossed and curled into a charming smile; you could see her pearly white teeth shining under the sun. You immediately wanted to know her name, who she was. Kyrie. She had always been with Nero. Not always, but for a long time. Long time, since when? You didn’t know. They were siblings. Not blood-related, but siblings. You didn’t know how old she was, but you knew that she was one year older than Nero. In front of her, were a group of children, smiles on their faces. Two of them help Kyrie’s hand as she walked them, sun shining above them, trees shielding their joyful selves. Until a roar was heard. One that sent chills down your spine. A monstrous creature leaped from the ground and ascended before diving. To those children and Kyrie. They ran, and your heard his voice when he called out her name, so desperately, full of love and affection. The love he said to have felt, it was for Kyrie. You could feel it, you could see it in the way he charged. You could see the surprise on Nero’s face when he laid his eyes on that creature. He had never seen it before? He pulled his sword and charged. Three knights in white armors descended from the sky to their rescue. It was all red. One knight died protecting Kyrie. Kyrie was hurt. Nero killed the thing, but not before it managed to slash his right arm deeply. Nero’s sword fell onto the ground in two pieces, broken. And you felt the pain of his wound. And his tangible concern for Kyrie._

Your eyes snapped open and you took a deep breath as if you had been holding your breath this entire experience. It felt as if you were trespassing, invading something so personal about him; they were his memories and they were events that actually occurred now that you learned them to be more than psychotic symptoms. You looked at Nero, and he must have seen it in your eyes because he offered you the ghost of a lopsided smile that left you breathless for a completely different reason. _(He didn’t mind it.)_ His left hand reached for your face and you thought he would cup your cheek and you were so ready to lean into his warm and welcoming touch, but his index finger brushed under your nose and you saw red again. _How long would you keep bleeding for? (Every time.)_ Why? _(Because everything came with a cost)_ The hand that wasn’t entangled with his reached for his right bicep and felt it down to his elbow, then to his wrist, back up and down until you were completely sure you went through every detail. “One day you woke up and…” In the meantime, you could see Nero relaxed by the way he let even just a little bit of his weight, which you welcomed, sag into you. “It was like that.” He completed your sentence and closed his eyes, leaning into the couch next to you. You reached with your free hand to brush your thumb over his cheekbone and rest it on his cheek, making him look at you. You held his gaze and your hand on his cheek silently, until you were sure that he wouldn’t look away from you, and moved your hand. Now with both your hands holding his right one gently, you offered him a smile.

 

“It gave you a new power. Even if you don’t want it, it is what it is. Really, Nero… In the end, it’s just an arm. It’s your arm, so it’s up to you what to do with it, what to use it for. You can hate everything and every single moment of your life leading up to its birth and waste your time being consumed by your insecurities and regrets, or you can accept it as it is and move on your way creating a better world to live in, help people who needed it like me, help save them like Dante. And you know this. You’re ready to move on. You’re ready to accept this as a part of yourself and who you are, otherwise you would have never left Fortuna… Never left her, would you? You saw it in Dante and chased him here, because you wanted to do the same thing.”

 

Nero’s blue eyes widened a little at your words and he looked at your unyielding gaze, searching for something once again. _(Truth, acceptance)_ He was quiet for a long time, pondering upon your words and measuring them. You seemed to have hit the nail on head, because Nero’s eyebrows furrowed, this time in something akin to determination. _(He wanted to ask something, he wanted to know if he could really protect something, someone with his arm and create something better.)_ And you knew the answer to that. He didn’t have to speak, he didn’t have to say a word for you to know it all, he didn’t have to try to express himself for you to understand. “Yes, you can. You can do it, Nero. You _have_ done it. Why do you think I’m here? It’s because you saved me. And while I don’t know if you had to punch through walls to do so, you still have. I told you, in the end, it’s just an arm. It doesn’t have a mind of its own, nor is it capable of destruction. It’s just an arm, and what to do with it is up to you.” He flexed his fingers which were tangled with your own and curled them over your hand again, unfamiliar skin slightly tighter on your own, yet nowhere enough to cause you any harm; if anything, the touch was protective, shielding. _(Meant to protect you.)_ He averted his eyes from yours, though it wasn’t out of lack of self-confidence; when he looked forward, he looked determined. _(He made up his mind.)_

Nero called out your name then; voice a little broken, a little hopeful when he looked at you in your eyes. “Is that… okay?” He asked you, like a hopeful little child asking for something. He was asking for something, he was asking it from you. “Even if ‘m a demon, ‘nd not a human anymore…” He trailed off and averted his gaze away from yours briefly, only to have blue orbs flicker back to yours, his fingers around you relaxing their hold if you wanted to pull away. “That okay with you? ‘Cause that’s with me forever.” He finished, and you didn’t know what to say for a moment. He wanted to hear it, he wanted to hear you say it that it was okay, that you accepted him, that you were okay with his ethnicity and his origin as much as he was okay with yours as he didn’t question you about it once ever since you learned about it. He wanted to hear it, and you wanted him to hear it, know that you were more than accepting of him. “So what?” You told him, and that surprised him a little, as evidenced by the way his eyes widened. “I mean… So what, really? You’re still you, demon or not. In the end, your heart won’t going to change. And as long as you’re holding me by my hand, I might as well have a trip to hell and back.”

 

“I won’t let this happen to you again.” He said, voice having somehow gained a manly edge to it after your confession and affirmation. You nodded and licked your lips to wet them before leaning your head on his right shoulder which felt slightly harder than it would have if you laid your head on his right, though you didn’t mind. The fact that your hands were still looped and your arms were still tangled was enough for you. You would accept him for all that he was if he was willing to do the same for you, it he was willing to go through this with you. Which made you wonder, what were you two now? If your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you, he confessed that he liked you the same way you liked him earlier. And your feelings had been obvious since the very beginning; you made your interest in him very clear by first kissing him and then telling him that you liked him, but in the end you ended up not talking about it at all, that weird pull the both of you had apparently felt.

 

The thought once again reminded you of the red string you had seen earlier and you looked down at your left hand to see it secured around your pinky finger and his time, following it led you to Nero’s right pinky finger, where the end of the string was tied. What did that even mean? Could he see it too? _(No, he can’t. But he feels it.)_ “What happens now, Nero? You and I?” You asked him and even though it ruined the moment, you still needed some answers. After a moment of silence and a squeeze around your hand later, Nero replied. “I dunno, told you I never done this before.” He said, and admittedly, left you a little disappointed. Even though neither had you, you still had an idea of what you wished for. You wanted to be with him like this for as long as you could. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and hug him, you wanted to press your lips against his whenever you wanted and kiss him, you wanted to fight by his side and support him however you could even if that meant taking a trip down to hell and back.

 

 “We got all the time ta figure that out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You two finally get to sit down and talk. You also seem to be getting the hang of your abilities.


	12. his lips;

You woke up to something quite abstract gradually warming you from inside out, from the very core of your soul to your slightly chilled body, leaving you no longer in need of the thin blanket draped over your exhausted frame to keep you warm when it got colder at night and when your body temperature dropped during sleep; feeling it to be suffocating on you, so you gently pushed it away from you. You didn’t open your eyes, but you knew that the sun hadn’t risen yet and that the shop was empty save for Nero sleeping in his room upstairs; you could feel his heart beats on your left wrist, the soft puffs of breath on the back of your hand whenever he exhaled and the very faint tug of the string around your left pinky whenever he moved in his sleep. It tingled and tickled your skin, but you didn’t mind it; though it was likely that he would be the uncomfortable one had he known just how you could feel his heart beating in harmony with yours and breaths on your skin even when you were a floor away from each other. You felt as if a weigh had been lifted off your chest when you opened up your heart to Nero yesterday. With everything being so bizarre these days, you hadn’t really had the time to consider your own feelings and what your heart wanted from you. Even though he admitted to reciprocating your feelings to some extent, neither of you specified what you were to each other and named it, which was admittedly slightly off-putting, but he said that you would have all the time to figure that out, didn’t he? You had never been intimate with someone before, and apparently neither had he, so you really believed it would be the best for the both of you to slowly figure things out and grow closer to each other. The memory of his saying he wouldn’t let this happen to you ever again, he wouldn’t let you get hurt like this again warmed your heart and your cheeks and it made your heart beat faster. Even though his protectiveness over your safety reminded you of the fact that he actually, genuinely cared about you, you wanted to be able to protect him too; so he wouldn’t feel the pain he once had been through. Demon might they have been, but they weren’t invincible, nor immortal; as evidenced by the way you felt the way his life slowly drained in your dream earlier, before all this, and it still terrified you to this day.

 

You opened your eyes and looked up at the ceiling from where you were lying motionlessly, still trying to wake up even though the thought of the white haired man upstairs had already carved a smile on your dry lips unbeknownst to you. It felt odd waking up every day and still seeing the same fan slowly rotating above you, like it baffled you when you woke up here from death for the first time and found out that you were not what you had always thought. Never had you ever heard of an ‘Angel Kissed’ and here you were, one of them. Every time you were reminded of your ‘abilities’, you still had a difficult time comprehending the reality in which you were present and that you were the one blessed with them. You hadn’t known they existed for a very, very long time and now that you knew; you still felt as if one day, you would wake up and this would all be just a peculiar dream. However you knew that it couldn’t be, that all of this was actually happening, and remnants of Dante’s and Nero’s parts you had seen earlier was the proof of that.

 

You had been wondering the limit of your abilities ever since, though you also started to notice little things; like the way you had known the sun had yet to rise when you woke up. There was no way you could have known that with your eyes closed and mind still rousing from a deep sleep, like the way you could feel Nero’s heart beats on your own skin or the peculiar string wrapped around the both of your pinkies, tying you together. When Dante’s blond friend whose name you learned to be Trish walked in later yesterday briefly and left after having geared up as she had some business to take care of; you had already known that she was a demon; one less like Dante and Nero and more like the one attacked you. She was crafted to perfection, to serve the sole purpose of resembling Dante and Vergil’s doting mother; and you knew this even when you hadn’t even known her name.

 

At first, it overwhelmed you and once you stopped denying the reality; left you worrying what you would do with your life now that you knew you were different. Nero’s words, his arm, his reassurance glued you at the moment and made you realize there was no running from this, it was then you started thinking. What else could you do? What else were you capable of? How far your abilities extended? Could you help anyone with what you could do, the way Nero and Dante helped you before and saved your life? You had been wanting to find out, however never really had the chance to do so until now. Nero was still asleep upstairs and no one else was in the shop after Trish left you two be yesterday; and it was very early in the morning which meant you would have plenty of time to figure things out. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm your beating heart. One said once that the greatest thing was to know how to belong to oneself; you could do this. You would stop running from this, stop avoiding this and stop pitying yourself to sleep helplessly each night; you hated doing nothing even if the idea of doing something terrified you to your bones. Nothing hurt you more than the idea of your holding everyone else back from doing their job which was to help people, and what you were doing right now wasn’t all that different even if you had almost died pitifully on the dark, cold streets and was therefore deemed almost completely useless. If you could do something, you would want to do it and if you wanted to; you would have to know how to do it first. And the fear? You would suck it up and get used to it now that you were a part of something much bigger.

 

When you moved to sit up, you realized the way your body didn’t torment you as much as it had before, not anymore. Was it thanks to the essence Lester frequently fed you or thanks to your not yet known abilities? You weren’t quite sure; whatever the cause, you were healing at an impressive speed; the insides of your palms had gotten way better than they were just yesterday and your nails were growing faster than they would have. Moving your torso didn’t make you want to cry anymore even though it still made you wince and wish that you hadn’t moved at all. It was way easier to wiggle your toes and your ankle was much better and you believed you could even walk, maybe limp a little, however, walk nonetheless. You couldn’t help a smile at the newly discovered information and moved your feet onto the floor without much difficulty or agony; though it slowly dissolved into a frown when you realized you had no idea as to where to start or what to do at all. You sat on the battered leather couch and took in the ambiance around you for a long time, not knowing how to proceed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath; maybe you could begin by trying to draw a clear picture of the shop around you without looking twice? Even though that would be more efficient to test your memory than figure out your abilities or the length of them, you were ignorant as to how to proceed anyway, and you were left with nothing to lose.

 

In front of you, was an old-looking wooden desk which was owned and occupied by the elderly devil hunter who was currently occupied. On the desk, was a framed picture of a very beautiful, blond woman you knew to be Dante’s deceased mother, an old rotary dial phone, a stack of carelessly tossed playboy magazines, five bullets; .45 ACP each. Ivory’s bullets. The desk itself had very deep scratches and bumps on it, as it had been abused many times by swords leaned on it and the heels of Dante’s boots. Behind the desk was a column covered by metal, on which you knew a very large sword once hung until it was claimed by Trish yesterday. The sword belonged to Dante’s father; it belonged to Dante but Trish wielded it from time to time. The wall behind Dante’s desk had a very large display case which was adorned by many firearms of all kinds and sizes mounted to it; nun chucks, all kinds of swords, and a few odd-looking gadgets had been hung next to the display case, a purple electric guitar was leaned on the wall. Demonic skulls with horns and those of otherworldly creatures lead one to the left. The bathroom, the stairs leading upstairs, and the small kitchen emerged from the left wall. A dirty sink, a yellow-stained cheap fridge you doubted worked, and many cupboards; mostly empty. A little further from the stairs was a pool table located, and tracing to right would lead to the opposing wall, where there was a very large window; in front of which a leather couch, and on the couch, you. To the right, was an even older looking jukebox that had very blatant dents all over it next to the wall, with a few buttons of the poor thing broken. The right wall also had a bar attached to it. It looked no newer than the place, but the wooden bar top and the bottles of both good and bad quality were complimented by the red lights of the Devil May Cry logo flickering. There were three stools positioned in front of the bar top for nonexistent customers to sit, and one in the back meant for the bartender. And there was the entrance to the shop was from there.

 

The more you looked, the more you saw. You felt the very energy surrounding them, especially the weapons; none of them were ordinary swords or guns as you could see that they had souls, names, origins. Some of them were arrogant and refused to acknowledge your soul reaching out to them whereas some other were surprised by the very fact that a human as yourself was able to communicate with them when they were manifested into their devil arm selves. Some of them were forcefully converted into devil arms to survive in the said form when they neared death, and some other were willing to lend their powers and have someone worthy wield them. Alastor the Thunder Devil had his soul manifested into a sword capable of attacks that were lightning fast, Ifrit the Fire Devil had been turned into gauntlets by Dante, Cerberus the Ice Guardian and Agni and Rudra the Firestorm were the ones who lent their powers to Dante willingly, Nevan the Lightning Witch was actually the electric guitar which surprised you the most, Beowulf the Lightbeast and Gilgamesh were two similar weapons in appearance and abilities but they were the souls of two different entities, one defeated by Dante and the other obtained originally by his late twin brother, Lucifer was a prideful demon also defeated by Dante. There were a lot more; Artemis, Spiral, Coyote-A the shotgun, Pandora with 666 forms, Merciless, Vendetta, Klyamoor and Zambak… With all the devil arms, a hundred thousand voices all at once; Dante’s place felt alive and more occupied than you ever thought before, it was so crowded with so, so many souls.

 

Deeper down, you felt it. When you blocked out all the never-ending sounds and the enthusiastic voices reaching out to you, you felt the ground weighing you down; the very pull of the earth securing you to the ground. When you expanded your vision, it wasn’t just yours; it was everything else’s combined with yours. The couch, the desk, the bar, the shop, the building, the area, the city, the country… You felt the pull; pleasant, undetected for so long, yet strong enough to hold everything in place. How did it do that? Your eyelids fluttered open and your answer was right in front of your eyes. Strings. Tied to every single thing existent in the place disappearing into the depths of the ground. You wanted to touch it, you wanted to reach one of them; but you couldn’t quite do so. You figured you didn’t have to do so. They were thin, fluttering with the nonexistent wind. Your moves? You caused the motion. You did. You could. You closed your eyes once again, instinctively as something within you didn’t want to see the outcome of your actions, and called the strings to you. Every single thin pieces tied to the furniture around you snapped and turned and twirled into a larger, one piece in your hand. Freed by the pull, you could feel everything floating in the room. Your feet no longer touched the floor, for the couch you were on ascended without the pull of the gravity along with you. The jukebox floated, so did the pool table and the billiard balls, Dante’s desk, his chair, the electric guitar… The strings belonging to everything around you in your hand disappeared into the ground, and you had half a mind to yank it to see what would happen, but you were cut short.

 

“What the hell is this?!” A voice resonated rather loudly yet incredulously and pulled you out of your trance, scaring you enough to result in you letting go of all the strings which snapped back to their respective places immediately after. With the pull back in place, everything slammed back onto the floor along with the leather couch, except for you. You closed your eyes and a loud yelp left your lips when you realized that you too, would fall face first on the floor. An arm wrapped around your waist before you could kiss the floor and secured you to a bulky chest though; your savior skillfully maneuvered in the air balanced on nothing but a magical red circle and landed on his feet with you slung over one of his broad shoulders. You were trembling from the adrenaline and your eyes were wide open as you attempted to comprehend the action that just took place. You were lowered to your feet though the arm around your waist didn’t dare leave as you couldn’t quite stand on your own two feet due to your head spinning. “Dante!” You said his name breathlessly once you identified him and held a hand over your heart and placed the other on his bicep to balance yourself, eyebrows furrowed. “You scared me!”

 

“I’m sorry, yer the one practicin’ occult here and trashin’ my place while yer boyfriend watches and I’m scary? You gonna bring this place down on me, huh?” He asked you incredulously and looked over your shoulder with his eyebrows raised accusingly, and you found yourself mimicking the action to see what he was looking at only to see a very astonished Nero standing midway on the stairs and looking around the shop almost as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes were not deceiving him and what he just witnessed what the reality. His white locks had been brushed away from his face and he was wearing a black tank top that hugged his body snugly and left nothing to imagination and army green cargo pants; by the looks of it, he had been standing there watching you before Dante came and you hadn’t realized it. You had known he was sleeping before, but you lost the track of his steady heart beats and the pull of the string when you concentrated on everything else around you. Now that you thought of it, even though it came naturally to you when you felt the strings of gravity beneath your fingers, it was insane that you were actually able to manipulate it, and there was no way you could possibly be dreaming as both Nero’s surprised expression and Dante’s bold exclamation proved it to be real. 

 

“Since when y’can fly, anyway?” Dante asked you and you found all you could do was offer a sarcastic, “Since now, apparently.” Your response earned you a huff from Dante though you paid no mind to his frustration and placed your other hand on his shoulder so you could stand fully without needing his support, and thankfully he seemed to understand your need to stand up and move your legs after nearly a week of doing nothing but lying on the couch helplessly as he helped you turn and take a few steps to his desk to see how your legs were doing, though the idea didn’t seem to sit well with your other companion for Nero scoffed and was standing next to you in the blink of an eye with a hand on the small of your back and blue eyes glaring daggers at the elder male holding you by your hands, blatantly wanting the other to back off, and if the low growl you heard rumble in his chest was any indication, he was serious about it. Nero’s display of possessiveness sparked something deep within you, and although you were admittedly a little spooked, you were also thrilled. Dante slipped his hands from yours, held them up and took a few steps back with pursed lips and a nod of his head as if he were surrendering. You instantly felt better when you were left with Nero’s hold on you alone.

 

“You should be restin’.” Nero told you once Dante grabbed a magazine from the top of it and rounded his desk, kicked his chair away from it and seated himself comfortably with his feet propped up, fingers idly skimming through the pages. “I don’t want to. I’m getting better, I need to do something.” You explained briefly but held onto Nero’s hand tightly for support anyway, feeling your injured ankle start to throb uncomfortably as you took a few steps back and forth, and to the pool table slightly on the back so you could lean on it; and he followed you obediently to make sure that you would be fine standing up even if you were leaning half of your weight on the table. “Did you find anything, Dante?” 

 

At your inquiry, the white haired man peeked his head from the magazine and shrugged, intent on indulging himself back in its contents if not for Nero’s hand snatching the material from his with unforeseen accuracy and swiftness, making Dante roll his eyes in mild irritation as the elderly male was likely used to the treatment and display of dominance. You, on the other hand, were left gaping at Dante in something akin to amazement that wasn’t necessarily directed at him; Nero was right next to you and reached out to Dante from where he was standing without moving anything other than his right arm. When your eyes snapped back to Nero, you saw that he had the material in his right hand, going through the pages in an attempt to taunt Dante, and you understood that it was thanks to his right arm that he could do that. You were fascinated, and for a moment even forgot about your inquiry and stood looking at Nero in awe, who didn’t look back at you but you could see his cheeks flushing a faint red anyway as he was very much aware of your eyes on his, and the fascination in them.

 

“A’ight, a’ight.” Dante snapped you out of your borderline rude stare and you cleared your throat in an attempt to clear your head as well, looking back at Dante who made himself comfortable on his chair. “Seems this Oriax was a frienda my old man back in the day. Looks like he had a small groupa demons backin’ him up against the evil brother. No one knows where the old fart is today ‘cause apparently the sword yer arm sucked up wasn’t oneuva a kind as we thought it was.” He pointed an accusing index finger in Nero’s direction and raised his eyebrows knowingly, which caused you to frown as you were ignorant to the subject at hand. What sword were they talking about, and how was it not one of its kind? You were going to ask them about the sword, until you remembered you really didn’t have to. With a hand around Nero’s devil arm, you looked up at his icy blue orbs so they would take you somewhere, somewhere else where you would find answers to your unvoiced set of questions.

 

_You felt its presence beneath your sweaty palm as your delicate fingers curled around the handle; its weight; its soul. A Japanese katana with demonic power that belongs to Nero, repaired and obtained by the demonic energy of Nero’s soul in Fortuna. It opened brand new doors of possibilities for Nero and granted him further abilities. It was in Dante’s possession before, but… But it wasn’t originally his property; the pieces traced you way back to Dante’s father who ordered the sword be harnessed specially for him, and was later gifted to the elder twin by him. It was Vergil’s before, and there was nothing it wouldn’t be able to cut through just like his accuracy and sharpness, including through the dimensions separating one realm from another with ease. How was he able to repair it even when Dante failed in doing so? The bloodlines. Bloodlines how? You wanted to know its name, and a voice echoed to provide you with an answer; Yamato. The man in blue. Bloodlines._

“You mean… Yamato?” You breathed out as you were unable to go further, breath shaking, and caused the two of them to look at you as you must have hit the nail on the head. As strange as being able to do that was for you, it seemed you weren’t the only one in this as both Dante and Nero seemed to be confused by the length of your yet unknown skills whenever you showed signs of using them. Whereas Dante seemed to be vary of your skills the more you exposed your set of skills to everyone, including yourself, Nero looked rather fascinated by them.

 

“Yeah.” Dante said and dropped his feet on the floor so he could scoot closer to the desk and rest his elbows on the wooden surface. “Figures pops had three o’those made. Yamato. Miyamoto. Muramoto. See, kiddo’s got Yamato, so that’s one.” He held an index finger up to emphasize the number. “Two others have been missin’ over two thousand years. If Yamato can open hellgates and cut through dimensions, the two other ‘re surely not fer dramatic decoration. I wonder who could possibly have those other two…” Dante leaned and tapped his chin, though his voice was laced with heavy sarcasm and leaned back in his chair. “Hmmm… Maybe that old fart rulin’ Anaon so he could pop back and forth through the gates whenever we’re lookin’ fer him, wouldja look at that!”

 

“What about Lester? He knows somethin’ for sure.” Nero said and you glanced at him briefly, he had long casted the magazine aside and had his hands in his pockets. Of course, it made sense, after all, Lester was the one who saved your life and had been in this world for lord knows how long; it would make sense for two ancient beings to know each other. “Sure does.” Dante replied and leaned back in his chair, legs wide open and fingers tangled on his lap. “Doesn’t mean he can share anythin’, though. We can’t find our guy cause he doesn’t want us ta. Lester knows who he is, where he is, but can’t say a damn thing even hintin’ his whereabouts or identity cause of his oath. He helped him out once, and made him swear on some sacred shit that he wouldn’t say anythin’ at all. Can’t go ta him himself cause that was a one-time thing and he’d be bringin’ us in, apparently. So we got nothin’ at all.”

 

You stopped and furrowed your eyebrows in concern; so Lester couldn’t help you out, at all? Not that he hadn’t done so much for you already, but you really wanted to help make Anaon a better place, and that conqueror of thousand years didn’t seem to be doing that good of a job. Maybe you had become too dependent on him throughout the time you spent in Devil May Cry as a recovering patient, that the thought of his not being able to help you baffled you; made you think that if he couldn’t help, there would be no solution to this problem at all. Surely, there had to be something you could do, though. You probably could talk to everyone there and investigate them, look into their pasts but that would take you possibly years and in the end, these was a high chance you wouldn’t be able to unearth anything as everything on paper and records could be a lie; after all, who even knew that Dante and Nero were half demons? When it came to bureaucracy, one’s past and facts could be manipulated easily especially with the right resources and people. You could ask for help from people who had lost somebody dear to those brutal killings but that would only be reopening their wounds and rubbing salt on them as all the information they could give would be on the demons that did it, and you were doubtful they would share anything at all with strangers after that trauma. _(You have you.)_ That… was right, and you were sure if you followed the right steps, it would work.

 

“Um… How about we, uh…” Uncertainty was pooling in your stomach; even if they were to agree to letting you help, there was a possibility you would fail too, after all. “How about we use… me?” You felt Nero’s eyes on you; widened, confused, and already ready to say no. “I mean… I could kind of see fractions of your past. And I can kind of understand how to do it now, I mean I was floating around just a moment ago, wasn’t I? I might fail and we might have nothing at all, but we have nothing now, too, right? So, it could be worth giving a shot, we don’t have anything to lose at all.” Even though Dante seemed interested in your idea, Nero gave your shoulder a firm squeeze and slightly maneuvered you so you would be looking at him in the eye, and you didn’t have to hear him say it to know that he wasn’t happy with it. Were you just getting to know him too well or was some sort of a wall broken between the two of you for you to be able to see past him that easily? “Y’could hurt yourself. We’ll eventually find somethin’, so you shouldn’t get involved in this.”

 

“At what cost?” A different voice came and made all three of you look in the direction of the entrance. There stood Trish in all her glory, with her long blonde locks brushed back carefully and black leather showing off her sinfully curvaceous body. She had a gigantic sword that you recognized to be the missing piece in Dante’s office on her back and two pistols; one white and one black, stuffed into her thick belt. “People are dying, it’s not personal anymore. We have to do something about that demon. And the other one. He might have been a hero years ago, but we can’t know for sure if he’s on our side right now. We have to take care of him, at least find him.”

 

Dante only raised an eyebrow at the female, one that asked her what exactly did she think he was doing and turned his head away with a scoff, placed his hands on the back of his head so he could get more comfortable on the chair. By then, even if you were leaning most of your weight on the table, your feet started killing you and you suddenly didn’t want to be standing anymore; you could feel your ankle pulsing in synchronization with your heart beating furiously in your chest, causing you great discomfort. One glance at Nero was enough to convey your stance, it must have been evidenced by the look on your face as he helped you on your way back to the couch so you could sit; a sigh of relief leaving your lips as soon as your ankle was relieved by the pressure. He took a seat next to you and crossed his arms over his chest with his brows furrowed at Trish, who gave you a two finger salute but paid no mind to the younger white haired male and instead walked to stand in front of the elder’s desk with a hand planted on the surface and the other on her waist accusingly, looking at Dante as if she were scolding her child.

 

“Can’t believe you bailed on me, way to solve your problems, Dante. You don’t even wait for them to go away anymore, you leave.” She scolded and caused Dante to roll his eyes and heave a rather irritated sigh, hands falling on either side as he shrugged. “Look, ain’t nothin’ I can do. People dun even open their doors, demons just pop outta nowhere cause the balance ‘s dipped there, no swords, no hellgates, no nothin’. It’s a waste of time, Anaon is the endgame, not where we begin. We’re doin’ something wrong.”

 

“Then we better start doing something right before it’s too late and Arachne takes down half of the city, Dante. We might need… extra help with this one.” Trish unequipped the gigantic sword on her back as if it weighed nothing and laid it against the desk on which she later sat on and rested her right palm on the surface to support her stance. Dante didn’t seem to be affected by her presence and instead leaned forward so he could take another magazine from on top of the desk, only to have it snatched away from Trish like Nero had previously. The action made Nero smirk quietly next to you, and made Dante roll his eyes again whereas the irony of it all had you snickering under your breath quietly, your shoulders shaking silently. “Look, I dun mind. If you’re gonna get Lady in this, y’better not complain’ about not gettin’ anythin’ paid. Y’know she’s walkin’ deception, dun wanna see you two crashin’ the place.”

 

The conversation continued with Trish shaking her head disappointedly and saying that as much as she hated bringing her in this business, they needed another perception with this as they couldn’t go around killing demons all the time and not making any progress as to what action they should take, at all. Everything was related to each other; they would have to wait an eternity if they were to eliminate every single child of Arachne before they lead them to her, but if they could cut the head, nothing would grow in its place. Though the mention of another party made you curious and you leaned into Nero, who looked at you questioningly, and asked in a low voice. “Who’s ‘Lady’?”

 

“A friend, I guess.” He said and uncrossed his arms so he could drape them over the back of the couch, resting his left calf on his right thigh and tapping the heel of his left foot on the floor; it didn’t take you long to realize that it was a habit of his. “Saw her couple a’times around here, not often though. She was in Fortuna, too. Had a few Holy Knights intervene and take her jobs before. Looked us up and found about Fortuna. People get rightfully suspicious when they learn a city worships a demon as God, figures she hired Dante ta take care of it.”

 

 Your eyes widened a little in surprise. So she was an acquaintance of Dante and provided him with jobs to take care of, but didn’t necessarily work as a member of Devil May Cry? You were familiar with whatever occurred in Fortuna and how Dante and Nero met, the true story, as Nero told you all about it when you were left alone yesterday with wounds to heal and absolutely nothing to do. You were grateful for Nero’s patience with you. Whenever you asked for something, he would give you answers that would satisfy you and he didn’t disappoint you yesterday as you assumed he was ready to talk about his past with you, all about it; from what he used to do before Dante came along to the weird dream you had where he was impaled by a sword and nearly died on the spot. Nero confirmed that it indeed happened, although you wished it hadn’t, as you could see the agony written on Nero’s face whenever you closed your eyes and pictured that very moment, though he didn’t seem as bothered by that as you were. You asked him about the man who had done something so horrible and Nero told you who he was, however when you asked Nero who the man in blue was, he said he never really learned anything about him although he came here for answers. And in turn, you told him everything about you; from where you were born to how you ended up here, from your likes to your future plans, you opened up your heart to him so nothing would be left unsaid between the two of you.

 

You could see Dante and Trish discussing in front of you, but you had long ago lost your interest in the conversation as you had once again become aware of the lack of distance between you and Nero and his tenderness with you; how he had been so careful since the morning and how ready he was to assist you in whatever way you required him to. It was his presence that filled your insides with a warmth you couldn’t understand, and everything he had done for you was just the cherry on top. He must have had something else on his mind, because his eyes were trained on you when you looked at him with affection in your eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get it out. _(He wanted to ask you about earlier, when you were able to move things.)_ He didn’t have to. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.” You replied before Nero could even ask, causing his flawless features to mold into one of surprise. “The things I can do, I mean, like earlier. Maybe I should give the whole thing a name? You know, like… ‘Abilities’ feel so bland, you know? Thought you guys would be good with that kind of stuff since you give all your weapons names. What do you think about ‘Berserker’ or better yet, ‘Hellfire Burning Telekinetic Flaming Bloody Demon Killer’?”

 

“Now you’re just shittin’ around, you’d be long dead before anyone could say that.” You cracked a grin and earned a huff and a wide grin from Nero, who looked away briefly, yet you could still see the faint tint of red coating his ears. “Wouldn’t know anythin’ about that, you’ll have to figure somethin’ out.” His smile was infectious and the red tinge on his fair complexion was one you admired; the conversation could have gone on lightheartedly with your cracking jokes and adoring him so openly, however you wouldn’t get anywhere if you didn’t share the things on your mind with the people who could give you their valuable opinions on the said troubling matters, Nero being one of them. Your eyes were on the way Dante’s fingers were tapping absentmindedly on the desk rather than paying mind to their conversation. “Do you think… Do you think that if I learn how to… fully control this, whatever _this_ is, what I did earlier… Do you think that I, too, could be able to help people like you do? Because if there’s something I can do, and I don’t do it when I should… bad things will keep happening because people like me who can do things to prevent them run from them, Nero.”

 

“You could hurt yourself.” Nero said, making you inhale deeply. You knew that he would say something along the lines; he made it clear that he cared about you and your well-being and even admitted to having feelings stronger than friendship for you, even if you two hadn’t really talked about boundaries or made anything clear, at all. But you weren’t about to give up so easily; you had already hurt yourself and that was half the reason why you wanted to start doing this, because you had been hurt earlier. And it would leave scars on your body to serve as a reminder, a reminder that someone stronger than you saved you; you’d look at your scars, remember the pain but live gratefully instead of being six foot deep in the ground. You too, could do your best and save people. You looked at him; your brows furrowed and lips parted as you were ready to defend yourself, yet Nero beat you to it, his icy blue orbs trained on where yours had previously been.

 

“Then again, it comes with the profession.” It surprised you, so he was okay with this? If you really wanted to do something, you wouldn’t ask for anyone else’s approval, but this was different; you had just recently found out about demons’ existence and you had no idea how to eliminate them unlike Dante and Nero who had years of training and experience. In the end, not to end up getting yourself killed, you needed someone else’s supervision and expertise for a while, at least until you got the hand of things. At least, that was the only reason you would acknowledge; not the fact that you could fight by Nero’s side and provide him with support, that you could understand him better than many and relate to him, that you could maybe, maybe start something with him. “I could… uh, help y’out with stuff, I guess… On the condition that yer not alone and dun go runnin’ anywhere without me, yeah?”

 

A huge grin broke out on your face, Nero’s support felt greater than you could possibly describe then. Though the reply you formulated was lost to you as you heard the clear ringing of the phone on the desk. Trish was the one who made a move to answer it, a cunning smile gracing her plump lips as she spoke sweetly. “Devil May Cry.” Whatever the person on the line said had her looking at Dante and muting the phone with her hand, her lips moved yet her words weren’t meant for the two of you to hear. Dante’s shrug, which was apparently an affirmative combined with the small smirk he had on his lips, had her smiling brightly and telling the person on the other line that they were on their way. Soon the sound of the legs of Dante’s chair scraping against the floor and the clicks of Trish’s heels as she walked to the door resonated, not before retrieving her ridiculously large sword that was possibly taller than you were and pulling up her black leather corset to cover her chest. Nero asked Dante where they were off to as the elder shrugged his large, leather coat on and equipped his sword and his twin pistols. “Shoulda listened instead of gazin’ into each other’s eyes dreamily. Young love. Business calls. We might have a lead. Will be back before evening, so no makin’ out on my couch. Or desk. Or walls.”

 

Not only were you left beet red in the face of Dante’s salacious remarks, but also frustrated at the very thought of something so bizarre occurring within his territory without his knowledge. Nero, on the other hand, seemed to have gained some sort of an immunity to his relentlessness, as he was hardly affected and simply opted giving him the middle finger and a very nasty frown that could scare a monster dead, which only earned the two of you an amused chuckle from Dante and a playful smirk from his companion before they left the place to you. Silence hung heavy in the air with their departure, and you turned to Nero so you could offer your left pinky finger, around which was the apparently invisible to everyone else red string wrapped, to him. Even though he looked surprised at first, he must have understood you desired physical contact soon enough because he moved his right arm from where he draped it over the back of the couch and held it to you with his palm open and facing you. You took this opportunity to keep the rest of your fingers curled and simply loop your pinky with his, holding on tightly. “Then it’s a promise.”

 

“What is?” Nero looked confused now, you guessed Dante’s interval ended up having an effect on him after all, as he seemed to be ashamed of his lack of attention and knowledge in your promise, his cheeks having taken a red tinge once again. “This is. We’re a team now, right? No running, no getting involved in trouble without the other knowing, I promise. And you promise you won’t leave me behind until I catch up to you, please? So take me as your apprentice and teach me what you know.”

 

Even though Nero’s finger curled around yours in response, your words had him furrowing his brows and a smile forming on his lips; an odd combination, one of his habits, you came to realize over the time, his ‘amused disbelief’. It still took your very breath away though, and left you wondering how he could be so flawless and your fingers itching to outline his plump lips.

 

“Apprentice? Dun make it sound cute, I won’t go easy on you just cause you’re new and naïve.” That made you chuckle heartily and point the index finger of your other hand in his direction warningly. So he thought he had the right to do that! “Hey! New, sure. Naïve, never. Just you see, I’m going to be better than you in no time at all, and I’ll be sweeping the floor with you, just saying.”

 

“Hmm, oh yeah?” Nero hummed, a full smirk playing at his lips, one that taunted you, dared you, and unbeknownst to him sent pleasant shivers down your spine. Your smile slowly dissolved and features merged into one of utter admiration for him as his icy blue orbs met yours and his endearment took your very breath away and left you wondering how his lips would feel curled on yours. You were very much distracted by the impurity of your own shameless thoughts swimming around in your head like bloodthirsty sharks, eating away at your brain and making your chest ache with the longing of the action. You wanted it, dear lord you wanted a future with Nero; but you were so desperate by his side that nothing else but him mattered, not the future, not the past, not the life or the death. You would settle for a ‘now’ with Nero as long as he was by your side and looking at you the way you looked at him. “Well, good luck with that. You’re in over your head already, think you’ll blush a pretty pink when I kick your ass.”

 

“Then it’s settled, _sensei_.” You shook your entwined hand once, twice, thrice before letting go and on the third time told him that this was a pinky promise and whoever broke it would be stabbed by one thousand million needles at once as that was what breaking this promise entailed. He seemed to be in a relatively good mood, possibly improved by your lighthearted jokes and endesring actions which were only played to make him smile the way he did; infectiously and made you grin brightly as well. “Can we start today?”

 

“Not a chance, princess. Not givin’ you a gun or anythin’ suspiciously deadly till y’can stand on your own without wheezin’ or limpin’.” You had half a mind to complain about how strict he seemed to be about this before you even started, but you knew that he was right. It was more than likely that you would mess this up and result in injuring yourself further, or worse yet, someone else and that someone else could be Nero since he promised you that he would help you. Not to mention the fact that he was also right about your not being able to walk properly yet, as much as that irritated you. As frustrating as the slow healing process was, especially since you frequently felt parts of your body throbbing in dull pain and still had a difficult time breathing every once in a while, he was right and you needed to take care of yourself first if you wanted to take care of other people. You nodded and shifted a little so you could rest the back of your head on the back of the couch, hands coming up to rub your temples to ease your headache. Only when the tips of your fingers seemed to slide on your skin did you realize that your face had gotten oily, and probably miserable over the course of time. Your fingers slowly trailed to your locks, and you almost groaned when you felt just how dirty they were. You must have looked as if you had tried to survive in the wild all by yourself but failed miserably in doing so. Oily skin, dirty hair, probably killer breath, sweat soaked, bloody clothing… You were injured, not homeless. You had to do something about this.

 

“Nero? Is there any possibility of my going home, at least for a little while?” You knew a negative was coming your way and you could also list the reasons why you shouldn’t leave this place as fast as he could; so you put on your best miserable look and pursed your lips for extra effect. “I think I really need a shower, as you can see. And a change of clothes. And maybe some skin moisturizer…”

 

He kinked his eyebrows and looked at you from head to toe. Way to go, forgetting all about yourself and letting yourself look so terrible in front of the man you were attracted to; yet he seemed to be able to touch something deep within you without trying to do so as always as his features shifted as if he just realized you were right and hadn’t noticed your miserable stance before. He must have seen how horrible you actually looked seeing as to how his features softened a little and lips pursed in thought; and it would be a lie to say that his silence and calculating gaze didn’t unnerve you at all. “Could take you there, but dunno if the ride there is worth it since you’re pretty banged up. I’ll, uh, get your stuff if y’want me ta or y’can take a shower here and I’ll lend you somethin’ ta wear till we figure this out?”

 

You weren’t quite sure which of the two was more appealing, though; the idea of suffering a bumpy ride back home on a vehicle you dreaded even if it wasn’t that long but being able to use your own shower and wear something comfortable, moisturize your skin and get back to taking care of yourself or the idea of showering in someone else’s place without their permission and wearing Nero’s clothes. That would mean no change of panties and bra and as uncomfortable as going commando in his presence sounded, that would also mean basking in his scent. And so you convinced yourself it was definitely because it was worth half the effort and was way more convenient than because you would be in his clothes by the time you were done. “Yeah, the latter sounds good.”

 

“Okay.” Nero got up with your affirmative and held a hand out for you to take so he could help you back on your feet and probably to the bathroom on the first floor. “I’ll go get you somethin’ ta wear and a clean towel, and you, uh… You know. Get ready inside.”

 

You nodded and slowly limped your way to Dante’s bathroom, and thanked whatever holy sacred being was up there for it being relatively cleaner compared to the rest of his place. It was somewhat dilapidated, trapped by blackening dirt and grime; on the left corner was overflowing laundry basket and a few dirty clothes were speckled around it. Water leaked from the base of the faucet, which was once white, and a few used razors were piled on the side. It wasn’t too large, but it wasn’t too small either; just looked as if the architect forgot the bathroom and added it in the last minute. It could definitely use some work; some reparation and cleaning would bring it back to live along with the rest of this place. Doing what he did for a living being what he is at his core, Dante deserved to live in better standards than these; then again, he didn’t seem to be a fan of aggrandizement and unwarranted adornment as he would have done something about this place a long time ago. Maybe he came from royalty and had lived in high standards as his father was a very feared and powerful demon, and found that he liked this ambiance cozier and more rustic. You realized you hardly knew anything about Dante at all, and unlike before when you didn’t know about who he really was but doubted him nonetheless, you knew what he was now and wanted to get to know him better; both he and Nero. And if Dante said that he would like to improve this place or get it cleaned, you would help him do just that.

 

You slowly unbuttoned the buttons on the front of the gown you were wearing. You hadn’t realized before, but these weren’t the clothes you wore before you walked out of your house on that day; these were someone else’s. It resembled a patient gown and reached just under your knees, left your legs exposed. Naturally, someone undressed you in the process of patching you up and nursing you back to health and whoever that was, was considerate enough to leave your bra and panties on. They would be dirty, too, but meant you could wash them and wear them again when they dried completely. It was a bit of a challenge to untie the thin belt around the waist that was secured from the back as you had to bend your arms at an angle you couldn’t yet, but you managed to tug on the strings and pull it loose. With your front unbuttoned and the belt loosened, you could push it down your shoulders and step out it. You placed a hand on the wall not to strain your injured ankle and maneuvered your legs out of the material, leaving it on the floor. Just as you were going to somehow figure out a way to unhook your bra and dispose of it, you heard a few knocks on the door, making you turn around. It could only be Nero, and even if you only peeked through the door, you would have to gather the clothes and towel he brought for you, meaning he would see you anyway. Not to mention the fact that if you were being radical, you really needed his help with your bra, as humiliating and embarrassing as that sounded. Untying the belt was enough of a torture for you.

 

So you opened the door and stood a little behind it just in case and peeked at Nero, who was holding out the supplies for you but had his eyes set on the floor. You couldn’t believe that he actually thought of this, and it set your heart ablaze to see that he respected you enough not to take the advantage of your unfortunate and slightly comical situation. You thanked him quietly and took the clothes he offered you to set them on the sink; he even placed a small bottle of shampoo, his shampoo, on the pile of clothes. He said that it was okay and moved the close the door, leaving you alone in the bathroom, flushing furiously to yourself. You slid the straps of your bra off your shoulders and tugged the material down to your waist, where you turned it around and unhooked it so you would be able to take it off without damaging it. Once you were left completely nude except for the bandages covering your wounds, you moved on to untangling them with utmost care for fear that you might reopen some of them or peel the healing skin that formed on it. You ended up revealing some pretty nasty cuts and bruises all over your body, but considering how bloody and torn the bandages seemed to be, getting rid of them seemed to be hygienically better for you.

 

You left them next to the pile of clothes you left on the floor with the intention of retrieving them once you had showered and put on some clothes, along with the gown that didn’t belong to you, so you could dispose of the bandages and return the gown to its rightful owner. You stepped into the shower, noting the way your ankle seemed to feel slightly better. It took you some time but you managed to turn the faucet on only to nearly yelp as the ice cold water washed over you and made you shiver to your very bones. You moved away from under it and rubbed your arms up and down in an attempt to warm up as the water gradually warmed up. Stepping under the lukewarm water gradually getting hotter was the best thing you had felt in days, your tense muscles relaxed under the hot water and your eyelids fell shut in contentment. Soon, the water was too hot for your liking and you had to adjust its temperature by turning the cold water on as it irritated some of the deeper cuts along your body. Your scalp hurt a little, and so did your ankle but it was nothing compared to the tremendous amount of pain you had felt before; it was either thanks to Lester’s potions or had something to do with what you could do, but you were fairly certain it was the potions because you had never healed so fast from anything before. There wasn’t even a bar of soap supplied in the shower, and you were sure Dante had no body wash, either.  You had no choice but to use some of Nero’s shampoo to wash your hair as well as your body. Only that it was nowhere to be found, you realized that you left it where it was on the pile of clean clothes. You could turn off the water and walk out to retrieve it, but that would mean wet feet on slippery tiles and suffering even worse injuries. Or you could try doing what you had done earlier.

 

You closed your eyes and felt the weight of every single drop of water hitting your tired frame, washing your fatigue away. The sounds, even the feeling of water hitting your face and shoulders and trailing down your body was lost to you soon; all you could see was the strings tied to everything around you, every single little thing, from the shampoo bottle on the clothes to each drop of water falling down and washing over your frame. You didn’t want the bottle floating like everything else you messed with in the shop last time; you just wanted to lead it to where you were without disturbing anything at all. Maneuvering through thousands of strings without touching them or disturbing them was truly challenging, but your virtual hands managed to grasp the ones holding the small bottle down and lure them gently to you; slowly, slowly… It ended up hovering above your chest and you opened your palms to have it fall in them. Feeling the weight of it in your palms secured you back to the reality but you suddenly found it to be all too suffocating as everything collapsed around you and your sight faltered. With the bottle in one hand, you rubbed your face with the other; the red being washed off by the water was definitely not that challenging to see. Just like the first time, except this time your head hurt terribly and made you wince. You realized that it wasn’t about getting the hang of your abilities and learning to control them; whether you wanted to use them or not, you would end up paying the price one way or another. Nothing in this world came without a price; even if you didn’t ask for the things you had. The trembling of your hands and the bleeding of your nose was enough of a sign for you not to use them for trivial things you could easily do on your own without requiring others’ help. You wondered whether this was sorts of a defense mechanism designed for you not to abuse your powers or overuse them; as when you experimented earlier today, you didn’t seem to have as much difficulties, just slight dizziness.

 

The more you thought about it, the more your head hurt. You figured you must have been in the shower for about thirty minutes and you still had to wash your hair. So you quickly opened the cap and poured some on your head to rub the shampoo in your hair thoroughly; the minty scent that was so Nero hit your nostrils and the menthol in it made your scalp burn bitterly even though it left a pleasant sense of freshness behind when you rinsed it and combed your fingers through your hair to clean it thoroughly. Once you were fairly certain you were clean and no longer reeked of death and survival, you turned the water off and carefully stepped out of the shower in order not to slip and hurt yourself further. Stepping on your discarded clothes from earlier provided you with a sense of stability even though resulted in their getting wet, and you dabbed your body clean with the towel Nero gave you. Once you were done with the rest of your body, you draped the towel over your shoulders and wrapped it around your head to trap your hair in it, moving to put on Nero’s clothes which consisted of a gray jogger pants for which you were way too short and a black t-shirt which covered even your elbows due to the difference in your bodies. You looked absolutely ridiculous, but the clothes were clean and they smelled like Nero, so feeling like his arms were around you wasn’t a bad feeling at all. You rubbed the towel on your head to somewhat dry it and draped it over your forearm and leaned down to retrieve the now wet gown you used to wear and the cast, old bandages you no longer had any need for so you could dispose of them.

 

You opened the bathroom door to see Nero walking towards it though his steps halted to a stop when he saw you walk out of the door clad in the clothes he lent you that were a little too large for you and completely engulfed your lithe frame. You offered a weak smile, not to mention your little incident in the bathroom; you must have taken too long in the shower and made Nero worry, he might have been coming to check up on you. “Sorry I took so long.” You replied and walked to the small kitchen were a trash can laid so you could throw away the old bandages, having to tug up Nero’s jogger pants every now and then not to trip on them and fall. “That felt amazing, I feel alive again. Thank you for the clothes, by the way.”

 

His silence started to unnerve you after a while and your concern must have shown on your face, because he pressed his lips into a tight line after moisturizing them by licking them in an attempt to shake himself out of whatever daze he was pulled into and looked at the counter behind you, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck nervously. “Ordered some Chinese food when you were inside, thought y’might be hungry.”

 

You saw the boxes when you turned to follow his eyes and a smile graced your features at the thought; you really were starving and needed something to eat other than cold pizza, and the fact that Nero seemed to be considerate enough to think of that for you when you were occupied made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You trapped your bottom lip between your teeth and looked at him briefly before taking both of the boxes so you could take them to him, who understood your intentions long before and moved back to sit on the leather couch with enough room on either side for you to sit. When you padded your way over to Nero, you balanced the both of them on his knees and sat down so you could carefully fold the clothing from before and lay it on the side to give it to its owner later. Once you were done, you turned to look at him with a smile, though he seemed absentminded, as if his mind wasn’t quite present at the moment, and it made you worry so you offered meekly with a hand on his left bicep and your head tilted slightly in an attempt to look at him in the eyes, or at least see his face.

 

“Nero?” You didn’t get a reply as he moved to place the food on the floor where it wouldn’t get in the way and make a mess; though you were left baffled and with more questions than answers to his unforeseen actions. He started acting strange after you got out of the shower, but he didn’t seem to be willing to provide you with an explanation as to why and taking his personality into consideration, it couldn’t be anything good, or at least as far as you knew. Was he going to give bad news? Did something happen to Dante and Trish when you were in the shower and he didn’t know how to tell you? Did he know? Did something happen to him? His silence resulted in your speculating disaster within seconds; though all the thoughts in your head was cast aside and your brain slowed considerably when Nero placed his left hand on your shoulder and leaned in.

 

When his plump lips met your rehydrated ones, you could swear your heart skipped a beat. Your chest tightened with feelings you didn’t know you could possibly harbor and eyes closed tightly on their own accord with your cheeks flushing a bright beet red, leaving your skin burning. His bony, calloused hands did nothing to help soothe the heat on your cheeks when they cupped the both of them and lured you in closer; your hands were trembling and chest burning as you hesitantly reached to wrap your arms around his shoulders in an attempt to press yourself even closer to him, if it was even possible anymore. Your ears rung loudly with gradually accelerating heart beats that resonated in your own ears and you, lost in the endless satisfaction, brushed your fingers through his snowy white locks delicately and cupped the back of his neck. He was the one pull away briefly, so he could press his forehead against your heated one and catch his breath; his blue orbs were closed as you breathed him in. he seemed content to stop there, but the flames of greed were lit within your core by the taste of his lips, so you chased his lips and trapped his bottom lip between your teeth gently, daringly, and it seemed enough to convince his lips back on yours, with more passion and desperation this time, as if he would die were it not for you. His long lashes and the tip of his nose brushed your tinted cheeks and his thumbs swiped your cheekbones tenderly, as if he were afraid you would vanish, as if he were making sure you actually existed and wasn’t a fruit of his wildest dreams.

 

As your lips moved against one another’s, one of his hands trailed down your side  until his hand brushed the side of your waist tenderly and settled there; fingers idly playing with the material of his own shirt. As your fingers danced in his soft locks, you came to realize that perhaps it was the sight of you clad in his clothes that worked him up enough to make a move on you so boldly, so unlike him. In the end, against all your worries and fears; he was a man, one that felt the same about you. The thought made you smile against his lips and your shoulders shake in silent amusement, which resulted in Nero’s lips trailing to your flushed cheek, and ear, where he peppered tender kisses on. “What?” He asked, now with a smile of his own pressed against your neck, and you couldn’t help another chuckle as his soft breaths tickled the side of your neck, your name whispered in your ear breathily. “What’s so funny, huh?”

 

“Nothing. I just think I love you and that this time, it’s okay for me to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long.


	13. except;

_“Nothing. I just think I love you and that this time, it’s okay for me to.”_

 

Second time that week, you woke up to the smell of coffee brewing quietly filling your nostrils and luring you awake slowly, gently; the sunlight peeking from your curtains and warming your cheeks indicated that the sun had long risen and was waiting for you to wake up, as well as the figure lounging in your kitchen, the sounds of cupboards opening and closing a pleasant noise in the background. It had the corners of your dehydrated lips curling up ever so slightly as you recalled, tried to understand how come you got so lucky – or were you the unluckiest person alive, really? – and snatched the chance of waking up to this? As your mind aroused, a four in your mind dissolved to five. Fifteen days. It had been fifteen days since then; since Nero kissed you fully on the lips on Dante’s couch and you spent the rest of the day unable to do anything but until he came back. Though it would be a lie to say that those fifteen days were any different from the ones you had been having; uneventful, lost still trying to understand how come demons existed and how come you managed to find a place for yourself in a world so bizarre and very much hurt from your latest encounter with the infamous demon you were tracking. Anything but; all thanks to your white haired boyfriend-ish who was faithful to his word, very much so.

 

When you declared that you wanted to be able to stand by his side and fight with him against whatever that was so this tragedy wouldn’t repeat himself; Nero reluctantly agreed to help train you, help better you so that you would be able to hold your own out on the field. You were grateful for his affirmative as you genuinely didn’t want a repeat of that night on which you felt so weak, so useless, and so miserable; however, what you didn’t see coming was the possibility of his reluctance dissolving into nothingness in record time once you could actually stand on your feet without feeling the burn around your ankle. During the walk to Bulls Eye, which had an enormous basement and a dormant hellgate under it unbeknownst to you, he seemed to be glowing like some sort of a fallen angel; he even flipped Lester off with his cheeks flushed when he dryly commented on the close proximity you shared and the way your fingers were tangled with each other.

 

All off that strangeness and charm was left on the other side of the door when they closed and you were left alone with him and a set of different swords and guns varying in sizes and shapes. It was then he let the demon out, and it was then you really saw him for what he really was; a strong man despite his somewhat soft spot for you, enough to challenge Dante and even force his options. Even though he flashed you a concerned look every now and then when you were left a sweating, panting mess on the floor, he didn’t hold back on you, for which you almost hated him on the first day. It didn’t get easy, only harder as you couldn’t even get out of his hold nor could you dream of taking him down, slamming him on the floor on his back like he had done you so many times before to roughen you up and ready you for what you were really getting yourself into. He kept reminding you not to underestimate any of your opponents and that you could only do so once you were sure to take them down. He was precise and swift; experienced above you. Your muscles ached terribly from yesterday’s exertion and exhaustion but you had to keep your eyes open when the door closed and you were left alone with Nero as he didn’t let you afford a second of distraction, reminding you it could be fatal and cost you your life if you weren’t careful, not having broken out in a single drop of sweat in the meantime. 

 

Despite his authority, he was helpful; he managed to help you get back on your feet and even running in three days of time, all his little hints and tips filtered from his own past failures and experiences made it easier for you. Every now and then, when you were left breathless on the floor, he would let you cool down for a few minutes and you would get a closer look at his past; his childhood. Sometimes, he would share the memories of a warm home himself, with an older adoptive sister and a past almost-love interest and an older adoptive brother who happened to be the very person to teach Nero everything he knew then, including his impressive sword fighting skills. Some other times, he would lay next to you on the floor and hold your left hand with his right reassuringly and let you take a trip down his memory lane.

 

 

Times he did that, your heart would beat so fast and your stomach would be so warm and fuzzy with what you could swear to be palpable butterflies in your stomach; the fact that he trusted you way beyond your comprehension and understanding, enough to share his past so openly with you made your throat tighten and made your breaths come out short constricted by a lump forming there. Sometimes his misshapen fingers would tell you of the fun he had playing hide and seek with Kyrie or how flustered he felt when he messed up the white suit his adoptive parents got for him and you would laugh and tease him a little, for which you would be rewarded with a flush, a lighthearted smack on your hips and a grin. Some other times you would see the way kids his age talked him down, called him son of a bitch as that was what his mother exactly was and a bastard for he didn’t have a father; the way his face would fall ever so slightly before he composed himself back and flipped them off, stood his ground and your heart would ache for him and what he had to go through, so you could crawl to him and kiss him fully on the lips, or on the neck, or on his right shoulder where the human skin melded seamlessly into the demonic one in an attempt to soothe his pain. He would see the way your face fell and would pin you under him and refuse to let go until you were whining for him to let go of you. He wouldn’t, you would get mad, and the two of you would get back to sparring just like that, as if nothing happened and not stop until you were done for the day.

 

And some other times, you would delve in deeper, try to look past him as a person and try to understand his body instead; you would try to synchronize your breathing and your heartbeats with him and function as one living organism than two separate ones. You would end up too tired to continue or bleeding, but rewarded generously for your tries. You slowly learned the way his body moved, his reflexes and experience pent up in his body slowly seeped into your muscles and your brain; and suddenly you would know when to duck so as not to get hit by his punch and how to curve your dominant leg just right so it would hurt more. He seemed to have taken notice of that quickly; how fast you improved and it didn’t take him long to put two and two together. His lips would curl downward around the corners but he wouldn’t say anything about the way you would offer a head massage to a very suspicious but ready to comply Dante every now and then for ‘being such a good host’ as he knew what you were really trying to do.

 

You were acutely aware of this, yet it didn’t surprise him as much as it blatantly shocked you when you were given a sword for the first time and knew how to hold it properly so as not to hurt yourself and even knew how to swing it in the way that wouldn’t put pressure on your muscles. One day at a time, your efforts and hard work started paying off; and suddenly, you found yourself on top of Nero, whom you finally managed to pin down – albeit failed miserably to throw him over your shoulder like you so desperately wanted to – at last. Nero got a mocking laughter and you got a praise from Lester, who had been overseeing your progress, and it was him who suggested you try molding your abilities into your battles in a way it would grant you devastating advantage in the battle. While your white haired tutor was reluctant to let you invest in that further as he was now acutely aware of the way your body couldn’t keep up with it for too long especially if you pushed yourself too hard to your limits, both of you knew that Lester was right and that it was a necessary part you had to go through if you were going to do this and even if you weren’t, you would be stuck with these powers for the rest of your life anyway, so there were really no other options to follow.

 

And soon enough, you were manipulating gravitational pull with fifty meters radius.

 

Though keeping it up for even sixty seconds felt as if every single moving cell within your entire being was being stabbed with a hundred thousand needles so thin and so sharp that you felt as if your head would burst and your brains would be splattered all over the walls if you kept that up; so you didn’t when it got to that point as you had no way of knowing why exactly that wouldn’t happen. If anything, something in your soul told you that it wouldn’t end up being good for you and you had no choice but to listen to that very coaxingly convincing voice as whatever that voice uttered in your ears usually ended up being true. So you only absorbed whatever Nero offered to share with you; both physically and was beyond that spirituality and ended up improving yourself far more than an average human being – or whatever you qualified as, really – could in fifteen days of time.

 

Training all day and sleeping all night as if you were dead weren’t the only things you had done, though. Now that you were back on your feet, you dropped by your flat every once in a while for a change of clothes and your needs; a shower in your actually decent bathroom, another book for you to read although you knew you would have no time to do so unlike before when you were stuck on that couch and had nothing else to do, things your womanly body needed to survive another week, or however long it would take for your life to get back to normal if at all… You weren’t alone when you visited home; as Nero was concerned for your well-being and maybe was even fearful of what leaving you alone could entail again and how neither of you could afford it, he was usually right on your tail, following you in. Whatever happened in the past half month caused you two to lose something, and that something wasn’t a bad one, it was a wall waiting to be taken down on either side so you could get to each other. He lounged on your couch, he went through your fridge and drawers as if he owned the place, he took a shower in your bathroom, now had his own toothbrush and a couple of clothes laying around in your bedroom when he stayed over, even strands of white snowy locks on your couch from when he gave in when you said you were sick of Dante’s old leather couch and slept over. One more day, one more day, until his own personal belongings started filling in your empty drawers and dirty laundry basket in the bathroom, and until those very strands were on your pillows in the same bed you slept in and his arms around your frame when you slept. His clothes started to smell of your perfume and your blankets of his masculine odor. Your lips started feeling odd without his on them and his had the faint taste of the peppermint of your toothpaste.

 

 

 

You stretched your arms and legs like a cat writhing in your blankets; the idea of waking up to Nero preparing your breakfast enough to help you get out of the bed. Right then, nothing felt different; nothing at all, as if it had always been the same, as if you had always had Nero in your life and as if he wasn’t a demon hunter, as if you weren’t training yourself to be one so you could defend yourself and those who couldn’t for them one day just like Nero and Dante did for a living. As if your body wasn’t sore from pushing yourself to your very limits, as if your head wasn’t aching from the imperial force you realized to be a side effect of your powers— it took you a while to distinguish the pounding of your head from the pounding of your skull as you usually ended up on the floor anyway, but when you did, you came to the realization that whosever gravity you dislocated from the reality replaced you with it instead; you ended up filling the gap you created as otherwise everything around you would break apart to do so, injuring yourself in the process; causing your nose and ears to bleed more often than not.

 

You rubbed your temples in a vain attempt to chase away the headache as you sat up on your bed, now able to do without holding onto anything and any difficulty at all thanks to your newly found abdominal muscles, legs tangled in the mess that was your blankets. Your eyes closed on their own accord and sleepiness wrapped its arms around your shoulders once again and tried to pull you in to the bed. So you didn’t resist and let yourself fall face-first into the soft, silky mattress. With his scent absorbed by the sheets, it felt as if pressing your face into his muscular chest and rubbing it there, for which he started calling you ‘kitten’ much to your embarrassment, so close and so comforting. Like home.

 

You didn’t know for how long you stayed laying there with your feet on your pillow and your head on where your feet once where; you felt the faint tug of the string around your left pinky before you head his bare feet padding towards your bedroom, to lure you out of the bed you presumed. You didn’t need to open an eye and peek to know that he was standing right there, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and a hip jutted out as if he were scolding you, but more amused than anything else. You couldn’t help yourself anyway, and found yourself looking at him with a sleepy smile on your lips, one that you were sure couldn’t reflect all the love you felt for him even if you tried for a thousand years. Standing there in all his glory; his snowy white locks were a tangled mess which he didn’t bother combing it into its usual shape, a black t-shirt on through which his demonic arm peeked; still the baby blue you loved so much except it wasn’t glowing, no demonic energy running through his veins. He had a pair of shorts as well, showing off his legs. Hairy, but not white as you expected it to be for some reason. It didn’t make sense; he didn’t make sense, having absolutely no right to be so stunning that it would leave you a breathless mess every time you dare looked at him. Every time he left your heart beating so fast, like it had now, and you were a prisoner.

 

“Mornin’.” You ended up slurring and hugging the blankets even closer to your frame, feeling the cold brush over your back when the tank top you were wearing rid up to your stomach and left the small of your back bared to the cold morning air. You wanted your arms wrapped around him, or his arms wrapped around you really, doing that thing where he squeezed a little too tightly on playful purpose only to make you chuckle and ask him to do it again and again and again until he grew tired of it, of you; except he never did. Your eyes never left his, not when you rolled over so you would be resting on your back and not when he made his way over to the bed on which he sat as well.

 

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Plannin’ on getting’ up anytime soon?” He asked, voice not yet having lost that gruffness it always had in the morning, so deep, so husky; and the fingers of his left hand in your locks, brushing them away and out of your face had your eyes closing once again, a content hum leaving your lips; prolonged, more like a soft groan than anything. It had him smirking quietly under his breath, you knew again, because you could hear the way his breath hitched a bit in amused playfulness and could almost see the way his plump lips curled so beautifully. You loved him. You realized you didn’t before; not as much as you did now. You felt him in your chest; the sound of his name rolling on one’s tongue had your chest tightening painfully, and you found yourself enjoying that constriction when you should have despised it really, because it was awful and that ache spread to your stomach and made you giddy and dizzy; but you couldn’t ever, because he was right there. It would have hurt more if he weren’t right there with you, you realized, and took it all.

 

“Don’t want to. Lazy day? So tired.” You said through a yawn pressed into the mattress, rubbing your face on it to get comfortable, which unsurprisingly had Nero chuckling lowly under his breath, amused. You could muster enough energy to purse your lips and furrow your eyebrows at him so he would get your point, that you didn’t like it when in fact you did really, but it only made him smirk quietly. “C’mon, what happened ta kickin’ my ass? I see no asses bein’ kicked, cept for yours, so you dun get no lazy days. Get out, hey.”

 

Few more seconds of this, you thought, your fingers in my hair, and he must have heard you or something because he let you be; he didn’t say anything at all and just kept brushing through your mess of a hair patiently until you rose on your own and sat up on the bed with another yawn. Your smile was more alive, slightly more awake when you looked at him; you wanted to kiss him good morning and good morning and afternoon and night, dear lord knew you did but you didn’t, not before you brushed your teeth except either he must have heard you again when not a single word left your lips or he really enjoyed crappy morning breath on his face because he urged you closer with a hand on your nape and pressed his lips on yours fully, affectionately; and it had your heart burning brighter for him. It ached and burned and something in your guts turned and twisted and it felt so bad, so, so bad to be so hopelessly in love with him and everything about it made you selfish, so selfish you wanted more. So selfish your hands were soon tangled in his soft hair and maybe you weren’t the only one because his tongue was coaxing your lips open and soon you were a breathless mess with your foreheads pressed against one another’s and hands on each other’s skin.

 

“Nero…” You breathed against his lips, eyes closed. The intimacy overwhelmed you for a second and to shield yourself from it, you buried your face in the crook of his name except it only brought the two of you closer and his scent was enough to deprive you of anything else that wasn’t him, the ends of his hair tickled your nose and forehead and you, had to take a deep breath to go on. Everything about him and everything about whatever the two of you had was so new to you; so frightening yet you could do absolutely nothing but to run to him with your arms wide open on either side. It only made the matters worse and made you fall for him all the harder when his arms wrapped around your waist protectively, tightly against his chest, just the way he learned you loved in the past few weeks.

 

“We really can’t, not today at the very least. I know I don’t have much time and that we need to get this done as soon as possible, but I’ll be graduating in a few days.” And it was the truth; so little time was left when you first got through what you had to and now, it was only in a few days’ time. Granted you were rather upset as you wouldn’t have the chance to buy a dress and a pair of heels suitable just for the ball being held at the end of the year for the senior graduates, you weren’t necessarily depressed over the ordeal— that, however, didn’t mean you would give up your certificate as a very qualified translator of five languages that quickly; no. You worked way too hard for that. “The ceremony aside, I haven’t been attending to any of my classes, I’m worried I won’t make it through this year. And honestly? After all that hard work, sleepless nights spent studying and the amount of coffee I consumed throughout the year, I just don’t want to give it up. My need to be independent isn’t only limited to survival, you know? If I ever end up taking this up a notch and decide to start, you know, like a business like Dante or something, I want my bathroom to be at least somewhat decent looking.”

 

The fact you made as you said that combined with the truth of the statement had Nero chuckling under his breath; a sound you truly came to fall in love with; one that was absolutely music to your rusty ears though he would insist your voice being angel-like if you were to tell him that. He didn’t object to anything you said, even seemed amused when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tugged you in closer both to him and to the edge of the bed— you knew what he was doing; waking you up, luring you out of the bed… Good strategy, it was. You were quick to catch on, but weren’t adamant on staying in bed given the smell of the breakfast taunting you from the kitchen was enough of a reason; not to mention being pressed against Nero’s built chest had its perks. “Hah, business? What are you gonna do there, sell nice? Millions would pay just ta see yer face and I’d end up being the jackass for kickin’ the shit outta everyone.”

 

“Nice? Oh, no. Look at me, I’m gonna sell _evil_. Death. Like Dante but much cooler and in much better conditions. Like a proper business with contracts or something. A book written by me. ‘How to Hunt Demons in Three Easy Ways’.” The look on Nero’s face was worth keeping this up for as long as you could; an eyebrow raised and his plump lips curled at the corners in a charming smirk that you’re your heart speed up. “Cause then I’ll, for one, be much better than you and for two, have a domesticated one of my own. Good advertisement, don’t you think? Your own pet demon. How ugly do they even get? Maybe I’d get one of Lucifer’s hellhounds.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure you’ll change your mind the second you smell one up close. Like snarlin’ diarrhea.”

 

You were cut off by his arm pressing you against his chest and the other sneaking under your knees so he could drag you along with him when he got out of the bed. You could only muster a shriek followed by a chuckle at his humor and wrap your arms around his neck so he wouldn’t drop you, quite amazed with the way he could literally sweep you off your feet and carry you as if you weighed nothing; it was like a soft touch luring your anxieties and insecurities away— as if nothing about the way you looked mattered to him in the slightest, as if your messy hair in the morning and stinky breath didn’t exist and as if you were a piece of art unflawed in his eyes when it was far from the truth. You had always wondered whether you would ever get so lucky as to find someone who would love you for who you really were; not for how you looked and how you behaved in front of them— someone for whom you didn’t have to change yourself for, someone who could see all your ugly out in the open and still love you. You loved many before Nero, or so you did until you started feeling what you felt for him; the pure need to have someone to love and be loved by someone. It was a never-ending cycle of unrequired loves, passing with the wind and only coming in pair with loneliness. The need to fill the emptiness within your core disheartened you, left you alone for so long that his coming into your life felt like a fresh breath of air.

 

“Snarling diarrhea? That’s really creative of you, Nero. I’m sure you’re great at giving people nicknames too. What do you call Dante; disappointing facial hair?” Your sarcasm and quiet jab at Dante had him snorting under his breath as he maneuvered you through the door frame effortlessly and padded barefooted to the kitchen, where you gently patted his back so he would let you on your feet. He didn’t do so until you were right in front of the chair located in front of the table on which you would have your breakfast, pulling your chair for you, even bowing with a hand on his back and the other held out for you to take as if you were loyalty. A click of your tongue and a raised eyebrow on your behalf was enough to get him to behave, seating himself across from you.

 

“How’s it gonna work?” He asked through a mouthful of toasted bread – he actually sandwiched five toasted slices together and managed to bite the half of the thing much to your astonishment; the difference between the way he used to eat in front of you when you were getting closer and now was drastic, he had long set the animal in himself free – wiping the butter off his left fingers. You didn’t quite what he was getting at first and ended up raising your eyebrows unconsciously, to which he replied, “Uh, your uni. The diplomacy, how’s it gunna work? All this demons ‘nd shit and we still can’t reverse time, so what y’gonna do?”

 

Indeed, he was right on point. What were you going to do? It would be question you would be worrying over, crying over for about two weeks now had you been the same person you were a month ago before you met any of them; except you weren’t. Normal people got to worry about diplomacy; bureaucracy and the formalities; you didn’t really know when you started qualifying as ‘abnormal’ and stepped out of the circle of the society, but it seemed you had long before you knew Dante existed. It all even dated back to when you first met Lester, and even older than that when you were first born with these abilities. As fate would have it; for the second time in your life since Nero, it decided to do you a favor by letting this one thing go your way. Maybe the universe was apologizing to you for the horrible demon attack and leaving you horribly injured; you weren’t sure but you definitely weren’t complaining.

 

“It’s all thanks to Lester that I don’t get a repeat of this year.” You explained briefly as you were still chewing, only stopping to give him the details once you have swallowed your bite. Nero, in the meantime, had easily devoured another five slices and was that his third boiled egg? “When I was down, he got me back on my feet using rather… unusual ways. A lot of rest and murderous essence to heal me naturally made the need to see a doctor redundant. It completely slipped my mind then, and I only got around to thinking what I could do three days ago at Bulls Eye when you were downstairs and I was with Lester. I was seriously about to break down until he told me he got it all done. I was like, what? How? Then I remembered I told him everything and he knew how absence allowance worked or must have learned apparently; because he got a doctor’s report signed for me already ready. Its legality is highly questionable, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

 

He seemed to be impressed with Lester’s work, as you could see from the way he nodded with his wide icy blue orbs on you. “Hah. The old man outdid himself, huh? Good t’see he’s good fer somethin’ since he’s especially so damn useless with this spider shit we’re in. Arach-whatever’s been onta us for so long, it’s getting’ pretty damn annoyin’ tryina find the goddamn gate.”

 

You nodded absentmindedly, poking the food on your plate with the tip of your fork. Nero had a point; Lester was the only one with the knowledge to the legendary general that used to protect Anaon where it crossed the human world in which you lived, but he was bound by the seal of secrecy. He would have cooperated otherwise, but the man of interest wasn’t keen on being found— even Dante with his exceptional skills couldn’t get a feel for his whereabouts. So they had to settle for hunting the said demon’s ugly children in the area until they got a clue. The last few times they left saying they might have a lead ended up being a bunch of disappointments and you could see the way it irritated both Dante and Trish; how long this job was taking them and how they weren’t even being paid for it.

 

You knew Nero wasn’t in it for the money as much as he was for the vengeance, you could feel the way his skin tingled with irritation whenever he was reminded of the matter due to what happened to you, you presumed. And even though Dante made it seem like he only did business for money and his own personal needs; you knew better than that. You witnessed something during your stay in Devil May Cry that had completely changed everything and shattered every single one of your prejudices revolving around Dante. When an old lady came begging for help, he said he would if she paid him. When she said she couldn’t even feed herself or her grandchildren, he said he would leave it to fate and do it on the condition that he got the tails. It seemed unfair to you as it was fifty-fifty chance; it was to his liking and he would be laying on his butt doing nothing while the lady and her grandchildren suffered if he got the heads, so it irritated you. But he flipped the coin, and he got the tails. When he did, he ended up sighing dramatically, equipping his sword and saying he had no other choice to help her. Later that night when the memory replayed in your head and the events slowed in your head; the coin twirling in the air slowly, you saw it. You saw it; two sides. Two of them. Tails. Even if he flipped the coin for the rest of his life, that coin in particular, he would never get heads, for the both sides were tails.

 

You knew it put him on the edge because he was morally involved in this; it was something his father had started and those great generals were inspired by him and decided to follow his path— yet here they were, years later, straying from it and betraying what they once stood for by not fighting to protect it even if it meant death brewing their way. You could see Dante despised having a promise made to Anaon folk broken and granted he wanted to slap Lester in the face for it, he admired his loyalty even when it wasn’t returned.

 

“It’s not his fault, you know?” You ended up saying after a while, tongue poking out from between your lips to wet them. “He would have done something to help us if he could, you know that. It’s thanks to him I’m alive, up on my feet in such a short amount of time. Even if you saved me that day, I felt it. I felt I was going to die. Of blood loss, of whatever; but death came for me. It was Lester who chased it away.” When Nero’s lips pressed into a thin line, expressing his agitation before it could build up and he would realize it; you added softly, humorously. “Also there’s no way we won’t figure something out. Our team has you and Dante, the ace players and there’s also badass queen Trish. Their team has a bunch of snarling diarrheas, so it looks pretty clear to me who’ll win this.”

 

As you knew, it earned you a shake of his head and a soft smile. The rest of the breakfast was spent making small talk and a brief plan of the day determining what you would do throughout the noon. You ended up washing the dishes while Nero took a shower since he was the one to prepare the breakfast, and he made the bed and got ready when you took one after him. In half an hour, the both of you were ready; dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a tank top since summer was around the corner and the weather was getting warmer. Nero was going to wear a hoodie that seemed to be a little too think so he could cover his demonic arm even though his body temperature was naturally high so he would end up boiling himself in that; but you made him decide against and wear a black tank top and shrug on a sportive coat over it that was thin enough so he wouldn’t end up sweating to death. He thought it would be a bad idea and was conscious his arm would show but quieted once you were outside and your left hand took a hold of his, holding it tightly. It was unfair that he had to hide in plain sight just like that, for him to be so self-conscious about the way he looked for fear that people would shy from him; not that he minded being a lone wolf really, you knew he operated the best being one but it was the look of utter disbelief and horror in their eyes that pushed him to wrapping his arm up and keeping it a secret from the ignorant outside world.

 

To you though, it didn’t matter. There was a notable difference in both his hands and how their touch felt on your skin doubtlessly, however you had long ago accepted it as a part of who he really was, so the leather-like texture in your palm and tracking your fingertips over the rock hard parts of his demonic arm was only natural to you; you loved him for who he was just like he had done so with you. You thought so highly of him, you felt so deeply for him, so intensely that whenever that look of disgust and insecurity washed over his face, you could only kiss it away for as long as you would have to, if only it meant proving his demons wrong and showing him that he was just as human as you were. Like you said to him that one time, when Dante had left and he kissed you breathless on the couch; you would never falter or walk out on him.

 

_‘Is it okay with you…?’ He asked then, voice low, so uncharacteristically unsure of himself that your chest ached. ‘Even if I’m a demon and not a human anymore, one day, if I’m a monster… Would you—’_

_No, you wouldn’t. You weren’t having any of that. It surprised him when you cupped both his cheeks and looked him in the eyes, but it didn’t scare you away, only made you inch closer. He feared you would be scared of him. He dreaded the day that would, to him inevitably, come when you hated him and his ugly, demonic face, and casted him away. He wanted to ask you now and make sure if you were okay with this, okay with him and he was ready to walk out if you showed even a trace of hesitation for he was willing to sacrifice a great deal, he was willing to go great lengths for this._

_‘If the world were to end today and I would have to take a one way trip down the deepest depths of hell with you, I would.’_

Dear Lord above knew you wouldn’t leave him, even if the death did you apart you would come haunting the death itself. To you, he was beautiful; he didn’t need to hide behind layers of uncertainty and one day, maybe one day you would get him to accept himself. You took one step at a time though; slowly progressed for you knew how it felt— having demons of the same kind roaming in your head and mind and your very consciousness all day and night; nagging at you restlessly, pointing out every bad little thing and shaming you for whatever good you thought you had, ridiculing you. However everything he did, from the way he looked at you to the way he talked to you made you feel as if you were the only one in the world with him, the rest be damned, and you couldn’t have felt better anywhere else. You would die trying to make him feel the same if you couldn’t. You would run to him if he walked away and you would hold him closer if he pulled away.

 

Except he didn’t.

 

All day, when you got out of the house and took the bus to your university, your hand was in his. Even when you got everything you needed to take care of done, your fingers were tangled together and neither of you were tired of it. He was there with you when you got to your campus; he wanted to stay behind for whatever reason he was thinking of, except you didn’t let go of him like you promised yourself you wouldn’t and walked into the rector’s office together. Thank Lord you were an honor student of four years plus one and had built an unfaltering wall of trust with the faculty members who knew you wouldn’t necessarily ‘fool’ them, so you got a bunch of good wishes and apologizes as well as your three-day early graduation certificate; which almost had you in tears. It was done, you were now an official adult ready to live your life to the fullest; except it wasn’t what you thought you would be a part of years ago. It was as a part of something much smaller but all that bigger at the same time; as a part of the supernatural of this mysterious realm you were a part of.

 

And Nero was with you.

 

He was with you as you roamed the campus for the last time, as you showed him the places you used to hang out when you were just a freshman, as you told him about your first year failures and all the activities you participated in and as you saw your friends for presumably the last time in a very, very long time although the five of you made a what you knew to be empty promise to keep in contact for as long as and as often as you could. You knew you wouldn’t have as much time for each other now that you all had a life to build ahead of you, and they were shattered to hear that you went through a terrible ‘car accident’ but delighted to see a near death moment brought you and Nero together. He was there on the walk back to the city center and the bar, you walked because you wanted to spend more time together on this day, and he was also there when you hugged Lester and he congratulated you for being a big girl now; bigger than you had ever been. He was there all the time. When you got something to eat, and got two large pepperoni pizzas with no olives on them, even then. Maybe the two of you had your own flaws and were far from perfect and hardly decent at all.

 

Except you weren’t.

 

The thoughts swimming around in your hand, his hand in yours and the steaming hot pizzas in his other, your certificate in your bag had a big smile forming on your face as the two of you made your way to Devil May Cry; both to get an update on the events and to spend some very well deserved time together although the latter wouldn’t necessarily be admitted aloud by the either of you.

 

What either of you weren’t excepting though was the sight of Dante, Trish and another woman, rather petite looking compared to her companions, standing in the middle of the shop. Dante wasn’t even facing the short haired woman and his hands were thrown up in the air as if he just couldn’t take it anymore while Trish had her arms crossed over her chest in a scolding manner.

 

“Whatever the hell do you mean, Lady?” Trish piqued pointedly, and before she could go on, Dante turned to face the lady, pointing an accusing index finger in her face. “Y’come t’me with all sortsa trouble and not I gotta _babysit a kid_? Hahah, yeah, no. That ain’t happenin’. Go play the house the somewhere else with someone else.”

 

It was only then you realized the little girl hiding behind Lady, seemingly terrified out of her mind.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay and blatantly lower quality in comparison to the rest of the work; it is due to the issues that have revealed themselves in my personal life.   
> I would love to hear your thoughts and comments. They motivate me to continue writing this piece of work through it all.


	14. amaranth;

_It was only then you realized the little girl hiding behind Lady, seemingly terrified out of her mind._

 

Your face marred into one of utter confusion, and you didn’t have to look at him or have supernatural powers to know that Nero had an expression mirroring your own given the scene unfolding before your eyes and your ignorant selves. Your arrival didn’t go unnoticed by the people currently present within the shop however, as Dante shot Nero a pointed look from between Lady and Trish, who were thoroughly occupied glaring daggers at one another with their arms crossed over their chests. It appeared that the newcomer was also well aware of your arrival, as she had turned to look at the two of you quite hesitantly.

 

Her red orbs, glowing rather ominously in perfect contrast with her innocent and terrified façade met yours for the briefest seconds, and it had you on your knees, the boxes of warm pizza dropping along with the entirety of your weight to the floor and sprawling into a mess. You clutched your temples with the heels of your palms, hoping to somehow, someway subdue the piercing headache that had drilled its way through your skull, making you squeeze your eye shut in vain as if it would block out the immense pain you were in and your teeth clenched in your mouth through which you hissed in agony. Faintly, almost as if your eyes were deafened by the loudest nonexistent sound ever that threatened to make them bleed and make you lose your hearing; you could hear Nero calling out your name. You wanted to call back, you wanted to ask for help, you wanted to reach out to him and have him make this stop but when you parted your lips to voice your concerns; all that came out was the rest of the air left in your lungs, preventing you from breathing. With your vision dotted and your eyes slowly rolling to the back of your head, a clear picture was painted in your imagination.

 

You were falling.

 

_Deepest of reds adorned the skies of the realm you were peeking into, from a distance, almost through a wall separating you from the scenery in front of you much to your pleasure. Yet you could still pick out the smell that made you want to vomit and made your eyes water bitterly. As the sounds filled in the picture before you, you were left confused. You could hear thunders roaring, but they were coming from downwards, from the cracked ground through which one could catch glimpses of a blinding, ominous yellow. It was raining, you could hear a sound much similar to that of water drops meeting the ground; except it was louder and resembled gunshots, except it was ascending into the black-stained redness of what was supposed to be the sky above. Emerging from deep within and slipping through the gigantic cracks on the ground, big droplets of an unknown purple liquid ascended and faded into the redness, where the two met; and it was almost as if a rock thrown into a lake, continuous cycles surrounding one another and fading into stillness before they fell onto the ground again, except this time they floated almost as if they were petals of some kind; amaranth._

_Another thunder rumbled in the ground and made it shudder, along with your weightless self and you tried to see further, but the red-stained yellow green trunks of trees ahead and their red violet leaves blocked your vision and trapped you in the moment. You stood there, watching the scene. The smell was long lost to your senses as you had gotten used to it after some time, whatever time you didn’t know, given you had lost your sense and understanding of time standing there for Lord knows how long. A furious wind rustled the leaves and the ground shook. Christ. Another harsh, unforgiving breeze hitting the glass separating you from that reality, could only lick your features gently._

_Another breeze, this one had chills running down your spine._

_The nature itself flinched at the mention of that of the sacred._

_Another thunder roared, this one was much more unforgiving; you could have sworn to have heard a mantra, a roar; a belittling, taunting call… Purple matter kept ascending into the red above through the cracks, and you recognized the thunder not to be thunder when it was followed by another and another immediately after. You knew that sound; you just couldn’t really put your finger on it. You had heard it a lot of times, especially lately. The same deafening sound, you could feel the insides of your palms tingling with the force and your fingers aching with the strain of some sort of a weight in your arms. Except this one, echoing in the middle of death, was much more… everything. If you remembered a soft caress, this could only be the slap of the death angel; nothing else._

_You wanted to see._

****

**_‘You want to? I didn’t think you would, but he told me otherwise. I didn’t believe him, really, I only wanted to show you here to show him that you wouldn’t want to be shown here. I wasn’t right, but he was. He always is, for some reason. I don’t like him because he’s always right and because he’s always right it means I’m always wrong when I’m talking to him and I don’t really want to like you because you want to see when I told you wouldn’t, which makes him right and me wrong, again.’_ **

_What in the—_

****

**_‘Hell? The irony in that is almost ridiculous except I don’t really have fun and I don’t know what that is. I mean, sort of Hell, but it’s not that simple you know; it’s not that grotesque and ugly— it’s nice, Hell is beautiful, a work of art much like Heaven in its own way but you can’t see it because you need to broaden your mind; you need to see beyond your judgment and beyond what you know and for that, you need to forget all you know about all you think you know but you don’t. Are you following? You’re not following, are you?’_ **

_You couldn’t quite… catch up. The sound trying to engage in a conversation with you resonated deep within something’s chest; it was almost scary to even listen to it— yet all you could see was the girl; the little girl hiding behind Lady in Devil May Cry, talking to you with the voices of ten hundred thousand men._

**_‘I’m no man or woman, I’m simply a being, a spirit. You humans are too simpleminded, attempting to fit everything you see into some sort of a category of your own, but it doesn’t work that way. I don’t work that way, you see. And that’s the problem, you ‘see’, don’t see, just believe. You don’t have to be shown to know, you know that by now and you didn’t have to see anything at all to know that.’_ **

_You couldn’t understand, you couldn’t understand a word she— a word it— whatever this thing talking to you was saying, but you could see it because it guided you through the outer layers your mind had set and you could see it; thousands of colors melding into a very bright one, except it looked dark because Hell had no sun, it only had energy and was lit up by the souls of the demons and beings occupying it; hence the eternal loop of darkness to the deepest cores of it. It wasn’t simple though, every carving on every skin, beautiful in its own way. Some utterly grotesque residing in one side, and some unbelievably magnificent sprinkled in between shining through the dimmed souls of the rest brightly like a fata montage in the middle of nothingness. Like Nero. Like Dante; beautiful locks of snowy white locks and deepest shades of icy blue eyes. Like Trish; a demon crafted out of demonic energy without even a soul of her own blessed to her very being, yet she had defied the nature and become a little less demon and a little more human all on her own._

**_‘I know, beautiful, right? You need to know, you need to understand that not everything is black and white first, if you want to see; end a war that had been going on and on and on for ages on end. You were hurt, some hurt because they are broken. Some hurt because others have things they don’t. Some hurt because it’s the only way to feel alive. Some hurt because they’re pawns, they can’t think, never been given the chance to do so. And some fight, for a hundred thousand reasons. Of many, there are only heroes and foes; no in between. Only the good guys and the bad guys. Broaden your mind. Help not only humans, but all in need.’_ **

_You wanted to; Lord you did._

****

**_‘Then I’m taking you to him. Watch that name around here, by the way. The locals aren’t really on good terms with the you-know-who.’_ **

_Wait, wait—_

_A name—_

****

**_‘Defender of the seven seas of Hell; Onimaru.’_ **

_And where in the hell were you going?_

**_‘A man whose demon and human had been battling each other for far too long until he fell to his demise and had to fight to survive. It’s quite embarrassing to admit my defeat to him, but I acknowledged his strength long ago. I desire, as I had taken him my master and lent him my powers, to set him free. For which we require your help, and that of your friends.’_ **

_Who was even this man?_

_The only reply you got to your unvoiced question was a sly quirk of lips offered by the little girl in front of you; who then held you by your hand and dragged you deep; deeper into the depths of the unknown where the thunderous voices echoed in your ears and where the yellow sparks blinded your eyes for a minute. When you came down, your feet touched the ground unlike before when they didn’t quite feel right in the air, and the soft pressure in your hand was gone. You saw the little girl then, and the scene playing before your eyes as if it were from a movie, except it wasn’t and you knew very well that it was real. She was running as if her life depended on it, right into a battlefield— calamity caused by a million beings against one that stood out the strongest in the middle of them all. She leaped into the air, and you would be shocked by just how high she could jump if you could be confused by anything at this point, and merged into a red light which disappeared in the middle of the field, between many demons._

_You heard it clearly, the sound of a blade cutting through flesh but the foes of the man in the middle only fell apart into a thousand pieces seconds later, as the man skillfully cut through the very concept of time itself. Pale skin was illuminated by the red above and dark green shining through another set of cracks from the ground. White, unruly locks reached past the man’s waist and their beauty was ultimately tainted by dried blood and dirt. A Japanese katana was held in his left hand, and the silver blade looked as if it could cut through anything in the red light. He must have been able to see you, which surprised you, because he turned to cast you a glance over one of his toned shoulders; reminding you of a very familiar face and successfully setting an uneasy feeling deep in your guts. Very familiar features, they were earthed by the dirty, yet surprisingly long, white beard reaching almost to the man’s chest— but you knew those eyes anywhere._

_A pair of sharp, unforgiving, icy blue._

**_V e r g i l_ **

_‘Find them.’ His voice echoed. ‘Muramasa and Masamoto. Open the three holy gates, bind the spell.’_

_He paused._

_‘My son has already succeeded the third sword; Yamato.’_

When you woke up with a start, you could breathe again. You jolted upright from where you were laying, on the same couch you occupied for days before you finally got better, and greedily inhaled whatever oxygen your lungs could take. You were hyperventilating as you were quite literally forced out of the shock and paralyzed state your body had been dragged into once and for all; all lost and trying to regain your mind. In and out, in and out. As you came back to your senses, you could at last perceive everything in the room; Nero who was on his knees in front of the couch and holding one of your hands with a what seemed to be pained expression molding his perfectly flawless features, Trish on the other end where your feet was sitting with a bloody cloth in her hands, Dante with his arms crossed over his chest and standing, Lady leaning against Dante’s desk and the little girl looking around, taking in the place turned around to look at you. You shook your head, reached to touch your temple with a hand and heard Nero’s voice calling out to you once again as the ringing in your ears finally stopped.

 

You didn’t answer to him, you couldn’t; your mind way too occupied by other way more pressing matters to craft a logical response and offer it to Nero, even the simplest along the lines ‘I’m okay,’ because if you were being honest— you weren’t. You had suspected it before; long ago. But to _see_ Vergil, very much _alive_ still trapped in the depths of hell and _hear_ it from he _himself_ that Nero was his son was a bit too much for you to take and comprehend. And he was alive. He was alive. How could you possibly say that to Dante without— what? What would his reaction even be, you were utterly clueless. You didn’t even know the man well enough to foresee or even guess his next course of action, he was very much unpredictable which made him formidable and a bloodcurdling fighter who was luckily on your side, but to imagine what he would do to hear his brother was still alive was impossible for you.

 

Fear settled in your stomach and you tugged at it physically, absentmindedly, ignorant to the sound of people calling out to you now.

 

What would Dante do? Would he even believe you if you said his brother was alive? What would Nero do if he learned you knew who his father was and revealed it to him; to learn that Dante was his _uncle_? You didn’t know, you had no idea how it would all work out, and the more you thought about it, the more your head hurt. You were slipping, very much similar dots adorning your vision; only this time you didn’t fall into the hell but to the arms of a loved one. Before you knew it, Nero was holding you and Trish was dabbing at your nose with the same cloth you saw her holding— wiping away the wetness there. So the blood was yours?

 

“Hey, kiddo. Snap outta it.” Dante snapped his fingers in front of your face a few times until your eyes refocused, and you figured you were sitting on the couch thanks to Nero’s broad palm supporting your back and Trish’s gentle one on your shoulder. Your eyes slowly drifted to the little girl whose name you didn’t even know yet. As you were stuck taking in her features and red orbs, Nero’s accusing gaze followed yours and settled on her as well; only his was threatening, as if he were an animal caged and locked up so he wouldn’t bite the girl’s head off in one smooth movement.

 

“Amaranth?” You called out, your voice hoarse and worn out and as if you just came back from the dead. The girl looked at you too, and took a step closer, only to look down and fiddle with her fingers once her eyes met Nero’s stormy gaze.

 

“Amaranth? What in the… We been tryina get her ta look at us fer forty minutes and all it takes is some sorta… Ugh, whatever.” Dante huffed, you could picture him shrugging his shoulders in frustration and holding his hands out in the air like he was just so tired of dealing with everybody’s bullshit from the way his voice reached your ears. A glare thrown his way; you didn’t know if it was Trish or Lady effectively shut him up and he crossed his arms over his chest again, though your eyes never once left the girl; taking in her features— her long black hair reaching past her waist and her bright red eyes staring right back at you; all dolled up in an ancient Victorian dress. Forty minutes, you had been unconscious for forty minutes?  

 

“You are a, uh…” You began, closing your eyes, trailing off. Your energy had been completely drained, you even had a hard time taking in your surroundings and the faces around you let alone look into this girl and who she was. “…a demon.” You finished, brows furrowing. Lady’s heels tapped and her smug voice resonated, jabbing at Dante and telling him that she was right and that she wouldn’t have dragged a child into this if she hadn’t known better. Dante was silent though; your statement must have aroused his interest in the topic and stirred the serious man residing within his being, out of sight, living under countless layers of sarcasm.

 

“I am.” The little girl, whose name you figured to be Amaranth, confirmed. “My daddy— you know my daddy because I’ve seen you big sister before, his name is Abraxas—”

 

Trish’s confused voice cut in, “Wait a minute, like, the company?”

 

“—and so I tried to find you because you had a demon’s scent on you, and I tracked that same scent on that scary bigger sis over there so I, um, and so yeah, she helped me find you.”

 

What did she even need to do with you anyway? You must have voiced your slightly irritated confusion aloud because she answered you truthfully, bashfully.

 

“It’s been my home for so long, Hell. I was born in there, and I was raised in there. But recently, this ugly spider lady showed its head from where she was buried. She has my mother’s blood on her hands and her hands on my unfaithful dad.” She was getting closer, voice growing louder and tone more frustrated by second, as if even she herself couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Somewhere along her hassled offer of an explanation Trish huffed in apparent disbelief and Lady commented quietly under her breath that all of this was just a tad bit too much to take all at once.

 

“I ran from there because and… and she, they— they’ve been killing, slaughtering the irrelevant. Humans have got nothing to do with this, yet the spider woman desires to have more, rule more— daddy started gathering an army and disguising them as humans; he is planning on building his own kingdom here and wants to rule through debt and economy, crisis, inflation. When I told him to stop meddling with humans and forcing his luck, I’ve been branded a traitor and kicked out; stuck in this realm with my powers trapped on the other side were this spider woman can feed on them without my guidance. And now... The betrayal of one of the seven kings has unleashed a beast on us; he’s called the Silver Fox, and he’s been standing up against dad and his brothers and sisters, killing everything in his way.”

 

The Silver Fox; more like the devil himself— To think Vergil was alive and currently unleashing calamity upon Hell was surprising as it is, but they even named him some sort of a mythological legend? And to think after what happened to you in that alley on that day, you would have never, ever thought that you would hear a demon speak in such manner. To think that demons could fall in love, have significant others and that they could cheat on the aforementioned significant others who wanted to rule upon the five realms of this universe had you baffled. There was Dante, of course, and Nero that defied the ‘Demons kill all’ policy but they were half humans, and Trish had pretty much become one after having spent so long by Dante’s side; but to hear the daughter of some apparent king-of-hell kind of demon defy her father… Your head hurt, how old was she even? And what happened earlier when you had visions of ten thousand feet down— how was she a link between that and what was going on down there?

 

“Wait, wait— hold that thought. You’re not really here. This is a reflection of your spiritual form stuck in limbo; between this world and yours…” You explained, more so to yourself than to clarify others and provide them with an explanation to this madness. “So it… It has access to where your spirit is drifting and could communicate with me through you…”

 

“What did?” Dante piqued, tone of his voice having taken a sharper, more serious edge than his usual demeanor; you could see he was now determined to bring all this mess to an end given Amaranth’s revelation of her old man’s classic evil plan— that wasn’t all there was to it all; he was bugged by something her story, and you were pretty sure what it was. “What’d y’see there?”

 

You wanted to tell him everything about every single little detail you saw in there, every single thing told by the spirit of an ancient katana who was in the possession of the elder, presumably deceased twin— but how wise would it be to open a wound that would never heal completely in front of everyone and reveal something to Nero about his past that he wouldn’t have guessed in a million years? Hesitation was crystal clear on your face as your lips parted as if you wanted to form words but no sound came out, brows drawn together in uncertainty. Nero was quick to come to your aid and cover your much smaller hand in his larger palm; your left in his right, demonic hand comforted you in all odd fashion.

 

“It’s… not that easy to share. Dante, do you trust me? Would you believe me if I told you what I really saw?” You offered at last, who gave you a puzzled expression and a pair of raised eyebrows in return, silently asking you if you were out of your mind. Then he rolled his eyes, and you could almost hear him saying that he was just too old and wise to be dealing with your nonsense. “Just spill it already.”

 

“Alright, so… I know this will sound insane and you’ll think I’m making it up, but…” You began, and Nero’s hand around your squeezed almost as if to reassure you, while you got a few questioning glances from the current occupants of the room. “Amaranth, right? So, she’s here, but she’s not really here… Her powers are in Hell, and her body is stuck in limbo so she’s… her life force is compressed, making her take the shape of a five year old. So, we humans perceive her as a child, but it’s only because if she took on her true form, she would be… abstract. Visible but… untouchable?” Your sets of words were very much oozing thickly with insecurity but Amaranth’s faint nod confirmed your doubts. You can see by the way her red orbs slightly widened that she was surprised by your explanation, or rather, how you have been able to see through her disguise so seemingly effortlessly.

 

“So, since her… self, is divided quite equally throughout the dimensions separating one world from another. She’s torn, but her life force created some sort of a… rift, right? So, from here to limbo and down to hell, it’s like stairs— energy transmission. Um, so. Using that, someo— something reached out to me when I looked at her. And, so, uh… It’s… a sword. A Japanese katana and it introduced itself as Onimaru; told me to broaden my mind but it had the physical appearance of Amaranth. I didn’t realize it then, but now I know that it used her remnants of energy to visualize itself and create some sort of a portal— metaphysically, of course. Or at least that’s what I think really happened. I’m not sure how that really worked—” By then, your voice had stopped wavering but very intrigued pairs of eyes were on you; wondering, trying to figure out where you were going with this.

 

“It, uh… Dragged me somewhere. And I saw something. That legend she mentioned, the Silver Fox. It’s, uh. Apparently no one really lived to tell the tale. Well, firstly, it’s most definitely not a fox. And, uh. Here’s the deal. Dante. I can swear on my life, on Nero’s and yours that it was… That it was Vergil. He’s in… He’s in terrible shape, Dante. It would make sense for someone who hadn’t gotten close enough to assume that it was a fox, a silver beast, because he had claimed this Onimaru sword and it gives the impression of claws and Dante, he told me that— that we needed to claim the twin sword Muramasa and Masamoto, and that his son had long succeeded the third…”

 

Your voice cracked, but it was your words that left everyone stunned in the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Nero’s widened blue eyes on your own, trying to seek out your gaze so that it would meet yours; you assumed he was looking for lies and deceit and some sort of a misunderstanding, but he would find none for you knew the truth was burned, carved clearly in your heart and soul. Your lips had yet to mold the words but Nero didn’t need to hear them, did he; much like how you didn’t have to hear him say certain things to know them— the bond between the two of you was a mutual one that left you feeling for one another, understanding one another but most importantly; seeing through one another. He had known long before you breathed the single, devastating word out and he had it figured out before everyone else in the room, including the older white haired hunter, could even comprehend the reality sinking in.

 

“Yamato.”

 

Silence hung so heavy in the air; so thick with tension that you ran short on oxygen, breathing heavily in an attempt to clear your mind and get it together. Of all the people; all you could think about was Dante and Nero only second to him. He had been all by himself, all alone without anyone he could call family by his side for so long, that finding the truth about his brother and that he was alive— it wasn’t just another job for him or it wasn’t just another day in paradise saving the world and getting to be the hero; no, it was finding solace and maybe agony in the fact that all those years he had been alive, he had been suffering and trying to survive and Dante hadn’t been there to hold him by his hand and help him out— hadn’t been able to save him like Vergil had by falling into the depths of hell he himself so Dante would get to live his happily ever after. Your throat burned and your eyes filled with the tears you wanted to cry for the son of Sparda. So many unanswered questions lingered in your mind, and his for sure; Nero’s. Dante wasn’t just a friend sharing the same fate as him or just an acquaintance he happened to so randomly run into; no, he was his _uncle_ in flesh and blood. He was his family. He had been all along.

 

And his father was _alive_.

 

You would have so much to talk about, so many minutes and hours and even days to spend brushing your fingers through his white locks and stroking his cheeks and talking to him about it; making him talk about it and how he really felt about everything that had ever happened and how it affected him— you would be there for him, you would be his anchor like he had been yours for so long, you would help keep him grounded and you would help him find his way back should he stray from his path of determination. You would, but for all that to happen, you needed everyone to get through the initial shock first. You had more important matters to tend to at the moment; like the evil couple trying to take over the world, trying to get over the shock of finding Vergil alive and as well as he could be trying to survive in the depths of Hell with millions of demons wanting the head of that infamous Silver Fox and not to forget— that demons could take on human forms and could be dangerous enough to conquer the castle from inside out given how big of a company Abraxas grew into in only a couple of years.

 

“It makes sense— I just, somehow, know that we need to open the gate to Anaon, and there are three hellgates sprawled throughout the area. We need three swords of the same family, wielded by the same demons who fought side by side and defended humans. Yamato was Sparda’s, and I don’t know for sure but one of them must be in Oriax’s possession— or two, I don’t know, but it makes sense, it really does. We need them to act as keys to unlock the natural hellgates instead of forcing our way through; we need to— I don’t know, we need to do something. And, I think I know where to find them; the swords and maybe even Oriax himself.”

 

You rambled so on, trying to offer an explanation. And you thought you had seen Dante broken for a minute there, you really did; as if he were broken, as if he were conflicted. You felt relief, however, you felt a weight so heavy lifted from your chest and you felt anticipation stir in your gut, you felt a happiness you hadn’t known existed deep within your core and something in your chest tingled and feather light touches left you giddy. You recognized that feeling to be hope; and you recognized it to be not yours, but the elder demon’s. Half demon’s.  

 

“It’s clear what we’re gonna do. Smoke that son of a bitch and drag V. outta hell. Literally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for the delay of this chapter once again, this will continue for a few months and I am rather occupied given the time.  
> However, I would very much love to hear your opinions and your feedback on this silly little work of mine if you don't mind; it really motivates me to keep up the work!


	15. one's worth;

_  
“It’s clear what we’re gonna do. Smoke that son of a bitch and drag V. outta hell. Literally.”_

 

“—he one?” Nero asked you with a voice not quite his own as the three of you –Nero, Amaranth and you – hastily followed the lead you happened to catch a glimpse of, every intent on following it to see where it landed so you would be able to end this fight— claiming the swords whether by talking him through it or by brute force if necessary since this was no longer just a job to get done, it wasn’t any other battle either; it was an all-out war now that you knew Vergil, whom you found out to be Nero’s biological father in flesh and blood, was being held captive in Hell and that a demon with every intention of dominating the world managed to sneak his way so deep into the economy that his fallout would surely damage it in some way— not that it mattered; you would take a brief fluctuation than a permanent domination any day.

 

When you shared every single detail you could think of with the group; you decided to part your ways into three groups to make things easier for all of you. Trish and Lady left to guard the city; they would use their charms and communication skills to sneak into the part of the city as police officers after which they would evacuate the area for things could get way too messy in only a matter of seconds. Dante, after having you go through everything you saw and remembered about his brother only four times, decided he would pay an old friend who owed him a visit; since what you told him in private about Vergil concerned him.

 

He did something you didn’t think he would; he opened up to you— when you decided you needed some air to clear your head and sort everything out, he followed you and as you sat on the stairs, he leaned against the wall and told you all about how it happened. How they grew up closely and looked out for each other, how they felt responsible for one another since it was the twins and their mother most of the time, how they taught everything they knew to each other. Those, you could have guessed. Then he revealed a side to him you didn’t think he had; he told you about the piano lessons and the recitals, the books and the legends and the ancient languages, symbols and the spells they had been taught. How the building fell on them, how he had to watch his mother die until he could free himself and how he lost Vergil. How he thought he was dead until he found him one day; as a changed man starved of affection and only seeking more to rule.

 

How Vergil fell to his death, and how he later battled him before he killed Mundus; as a demon, as a slave to himself. He told you that he cut through him with his sword and watched it perish; about how there was no possible way he could have survived that. And you didn’t have an answer to that; you really didn’t. You told him that he would have to look for the answers he wanted from Vergil in person when they got him out; that he would have most of it if not all. Then a thought occurred to you; even if he died and was resurrected, even if he was doing a pretty good job killing everything in his way down in Hell, that didn’t mean he would be all sunshine and sparkles when he passed through the gates and stepped back on earth. His body could be broken, and without the healing effect the air had in Hell, something you knew but didn’t know how you knew, he could have a hard time adjusting or healing. When you voiced your concerns, Dante only hummed in deep thought and told you that he would have to visit an old friend in great debt to him— a doctor he helped couple years back when he was being hunted by the demons sent after him by a man.

 

So, that was group number two, and the third consisted of you, Nero and your younger demonic companion Amaranth, who was given the task of confronting the problem head on and claiming the two katana you required to open the gates. Nero packed his gigantic sword Red Queen much to your utter surprise and fascination, disguised in a bag so it wouldn’t draw too much attention and wore a black glove to conceal his right hand, sleeves rolled down, Blue Rose strapped to his side. He was, apparently, the one to defend you and Amaranth should Oriax decide to have human steak for dinner. You were there for confirmation, to make sure that there were no mistakes made for which you would have to pay later on— not to mention the fact that your talents helped you empathize with people or things, which helped to solve any friction much better than violence, so Nero was the last resort. Amaranth only joined you to help support your case and reasoning, and because Dante didn’t want her lurking around in the shop and snooping since there would be no one to keep an eye on her; but you were fairly sure it was because Dante wanted her out of trouble if something tracked her scent to the shop and decided to slice her head clean off her neck— she was defenseless in this realm without her powers to aid her, after all.

 

You were startled by Nero’s hand tapping you gently on the shoulder, snapping you out of your daze quite violently. His hand slipped down to your back and rubbed there gently to coax you into calming down, which you did gradually. “A’ight there?” You nodded, closing your eyes. You were distracted, you had been distracted for a while now. This whole thing was a mess, and you still half expected to wake up one day, in your bed, looking up at the ceiling and wondering what kind of a wild dream that was you had. But you did, every night you went to sleep thinking that was the end of it all but you still woke up in this world, in this madness anyway. There was Nero; his love was nothing like you had ever gotten to know or experience— it was refreshing like a warm breeze caressing your locks and face gently on a comforting spring day, it was accepting like the warm hugs your mother would give you and it was addictive, every day you would find yourself wanting him and when he loved you the way you loved him, you would burn selfishly at your very core, wanting even more than he ever offered you. And your heart burned brightly for the man you loved, thinking what he was going through was way more difficult than yours. He was born in this world and he was raised in it— he had nobody to guide him and now, he knew where he was really from; what he really was. You still had to talk to him about it, you imagined he would have a lot on his mind and a lot he would want to get off his chest but in your state, you couldn’t afford to waste one more second.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” You nodded, brows drawn together in uncertainty and a bitter taste on our tongue. “I just— it’s a lot to take in. I mean, all of this. And I thought I was getting used to this lifestyle, but walking with a demon princess and one fourth of a demon by my side, I feel…”

 

Now that got you a chuckle from the both of them; Nero must have found your describing him as one fourth of a demon quite endearing and the little one – you needed to constantly keep reminding yourself not to call Amaranth little or treat her like a child since it was only her physical manifestation and he was over three thousand years old even though she looked and sounded like one and could only defend herself as well as a seven year old – must have been pleased by your referring to her as a princess. Not that you were wrong since her father happened to be one of the seven corrupt kings, well, technically five since Dante proudly slayed the previous king Mundus and his old man Sparda was long dead. “Yeah, talk about awkward.”

 

You offered him a smile, finding solace in the way he was holding you close, keeping an eye out for you. “Sorry I wasn’t listening, though. What did you say?” Your mind wandered to the way you had your arms wrapped around Nero on a motorcycle. You originally intended on doing the same once again, however it was Dante who called dibs on the means of transportation since the vehicle was his to begin with and since he had a way much longer to go compared to you. You never minded walking your way to anywhere, but taking a bus to a possible battle seemed off to you, though walking to your destination wasn’t any better.

 

“Was askin’ if you’re really sure it’s him. I mean, didn’t peg him for the kinda guy who’d… y’know, kick some solid demon ass fer a livin’.” You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his statement; he phrased the words in a way they would mean he was any better; a white-haired young man in his mid-twenties, walking around with a demonic arm and guns and swords on his back as if he were from a movie or something. He made so much sense being half a demon, you couldn’t even begin to describe just how normal his life was and how it was alright for him to think of someone else as odd. Your amusement must have shown on your face, your lips molded into a knowing smile because he raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips at you, huffing a ‘what?’ almost childishly.

 

“Well…” You said when you arrived at your destination, looking up at the old sign pinned above the shop that read clear as the day; ‘Ollie’s Winery’. “…Let’s hope that I’m not.”

 

While you and Amaranth decided to take the action, Nero deemed it to be a better idea to lurk in front of the shop and unpack his modified piece of sword so that he would be able to rush in without losing a second, not that you genuinely thought Ollie would be of any harm in his old age and because you still had that big lump of doubt gloating in your gut about him, but Nero was relentless in his wake— wouldn’t even let you step a foot out of Devil May Cry if he didn’t go unprepared. You could never be too prepared, after all given what happened to you once for you were reckless, it would be idiotic of you to let it happen to you once again on such short notice. It was odd, it had a bitter taste in your mouth; this whole thing. Ollie and Lester had been friends for years although not necessarily on good terms, or so it seemed because he had always been reluctant when it came to confronting him. You wondered whether it was because Ollie was in fact Oriax as you had seen in your vision while you were coming to your senses; or because he was related to Oriax in some other way you could not yet put your finger on. He was a grumpy old man alright, but it never really reached beyond his words— you thought his attacking you for coming to him could possibly start a civil war with Lester and the Nosferatu under his protection since he really took well care of you and treated you as if you were his daughter; you still couldn’t understand how come he would be so fond of you when you had been of no good use to him at all.

 

When you stepped into the cave-like shop that was Ollie’s Winery, you saw it vacant as it always was during your visits. Only this time when you gazed at the wall to your left, knowing what you would find there; you weren’t sure what to expect— what to think of the old man Ollie. Your heart stopped short and your breath got caught in your lungs when you saw them just as you predicted you would in the darkest of your dreams; there stood two katana hung on the stone wall on a wooden stand, positioned so they would face one another in a crossed manner. You recognized the one on the left in a blue sheath to be Muramasa, and the one on the right in a red sheath to be Masamoto. They were twins. Not twin katana, _literally_ twins; molded at the same time and shaped at the same time by the hands that crafted them, held at the same time and used at the same time by those who once wielded them. That was the reason why they were together, even to this day— you could see the blue twine meddling with that of red, they couldn’t be kept apart, they had to be used at the same time. They had to be claimed by hands that were worthy, hands of one mighty being only— only then could they be held. Should those undeserving of them dare lay a hand on the handle; their palms would turn into ice and crumble as the third, the older brother of the two Yamato would cut through dimensions and hands of the weak.

 

Their presence, so dominating in the room and suffocating, overwhelmed you to the point you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching or see the sunlight flicker on the silver blade held to your throat. It was the old man Ollie indeed, holding a wider and taller blade of another sword to the left side of your throat, his very intent to kill sharper than his blade. You might not have seen him coming, but you knew Nero was behind you, his even breaths fanning the side of your neck as he stood literally millimeters behind your back. He wasn’t unprepared in his challenge, Red Queen pressed snug against Ollie’s throat just like he had his sword threatening your life. There was a fire in his icy blue orbs, you didn’t have to turn back to look into them to feel it burning you from inside out.

 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t do something that would displease me, kiddo.” There was nothing inhumane in the way Ollie’s black orbs met Nero’s, his lips drawn into a tight line, making him look wise in his old age. There was nothing different about him; not the hunch he had, not the way his cheeks concealed his jawline, not the way he would always keep a hand behind his back to support himself and keep his footing still. Now that you looked at it, the arm that was holding the sword up trembled only slightly. Nero’s arm, on the other hand, extended over one of your shoulders had no difficulty holding a sword twice your weight up easily, fingers wrapped even loosely around the handle. “My bad, it look like I give a shit? ‘Cause the last fuck I was bouta give ran outta the place the second you thought y’could lay a hand on her.”

 

“Nero,” As realization hit you hard in the face, your eyes widened. You started, ever so slowly reaching for his muscled arm over your shoulder not to tick either of them off as it could cause in a very unfortunate death. Your moving seemed to trigger something in Ollie and he stiffened, his posture much less sloppy compared to seconds prior, the edge of the sword now licking the side of your neck much more ominously. Your hand landed on Nero’s forearm though, fingers curling around the material of his coat ever so gently. “Nero, put your sword down.”

 

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Even though you cooed gently to soothe his nerves and make him comply, he wasn’t having any of it. No matter how calm and collected he appeared to be on the outside, you knew better from the way you could feel his hastening breaths fanning the side of your neck— he was barely holding it together; thinking taking down a man his age and chopping his head off couldn’t be all that hard. The only problem was you, and that he would lose it all if something happened to you; all it would take would be a flick of the old man’s wrist and you would bleed out to your inevitable death in his arms and he wouldn’t be able to do anything. He would taunt him and then grab him in the air with the devil bringer; that he could do. Then he would squeeze the life out of his lungs and—

 

“Nero, no. You’re _not_ going to kill a human being, put your sword down and take a step back.” As his rather violent ideas filled your mind and meddled with yours, you frowned and felt Nero’s disbelieving huff more than you heard it, knowing he had his full lips set into a tight line and his eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Nero, lower your goddamn sword! You can see it, can’t you? He’s not a demon, let alone _the_ legendary demon we’re looking for. He’s just an old man, is all.”

 

Even after your explanation, Nero didn’t budge. He was putting your safety over the life of another man; human or not, he didn’t get to threaten your safety and live long enough to tell the tale— he wouldn’t let it happen. When you realized that regardless of what you said you wouldn’t be able to convince Nero to take the first step back, you turned your attention to the old Italian standing in front of you, much shorter than you. You were still as cautious as you could be, though, since he was the one holding the sword to your throat and your life in his hands. “Listen to me, Ollie. We don’t have to—”

 

“What? We don’t have to, what? Go through this? And I just let you take the swords and walk out of my door, just like that? After you’ve brought a demon to my shop not only once, but twice now. Now, I know for sure, with the devil trap carved into the floor, there’s no way a demonic soul can think of walking in. What I don’t understand is how they can when they’re with you.” He was getting agitated, you observed, thoroughly displeased by the said matter. It wasn’t him who had the upper hand, you realized, it had always been you. He was just an old man, barely trying to threaten your life and succeed doing so— even if he wanted you dead, he wouldn’t be able to have you dead. He was scared of something, perhaps of you, hence the hesitation and the fear. Because he wanted to keep the swords out of royalty to someone, not because he could wield them or because he owned them; he wasn’t the one holding them after all. And it was the possibility of his sacred promise of keeping them in safe hands, figuratively, that unnerved him. “I kept quiet the first time around because I figured the kid was with the son of Sparda and because Lester made you, but I won’t, now that you dared to walk through that door with the seed of the corrupt.”

 

“The corrupt?” Amaranth spoke, for the first time since you left the shop; her childish voice disbelieving. “You really think so? Don’t tell me you don’t know the good in demons. We were born like this, you fool, we were born demons just as you were born humans. Just because those without consciousness unleash evil on your species, we don’t get to have feelings? Son on Sparda is fighting to save his own flesh and blood, he has been battling on your side for years. His grandson has something else, someone else to fight for. Do you really think it’s the human in them, the demon or the _soul_ itself?” 

 

Your eyes were set dead on Ollie as you couldn’t afford to move your head an inch or even flinch given your current situation, and you could see the way his expression shifted— older features molding into one of doubt and uncertainty. All it took him was a brief second in which he lost his focus and faltered; that was enough time for Nero to hold his wrist, turn it a hundred and eighty degrees, tap his back so the pressure on his shoulder would make him let go of the sword. Only you didn’t let him, taking a few steps back fast enough and hard enough so your back would collide with his chest and he would have to move backwards to maintain his balance. In its descend, the sharp end of the sword ended up grazing your arm, nothing you couldn’t handle, and you had to open your arms wide on either side to keep Nero from lashing out on the old man, who was now looking down at your feet rather sorrowfully. His expression was genuine enough since he started cooling down behind your back, and even as you let go, you kept an arm wrapped around his torso.

 

“Yeah… I know that…” Ollie said at last, and you realized there was another conversation going on between him and Amaranth, who was now standing between you and Ollie, looking up at him. “Oriax is dead, isn’t he? Your husband died protecting you and Anaon. Left the swords you made for him behind, knowing he wouldn’t come back from his battle against my father. You kept the legend alive eve after his death years ago, you made sure the word never got out, but father betrayed you two after that. Olivier, you need to understand that he’s gone. You need to understand that life goes on no matter what. He’s no more, but we’re willing to pick up where he left off. But you need to know that we can’t do so unless you help us. We need the swords to open the gates and end this once and for all.”

 

“You don’t need to open the gates, not with Yamato; a sword sharp enough to cut through anything, even dimensions, time and space, understanding of existence. You have it in your possession, don’t you? The third sword, our finest…” He replied, arm fling by his side. You lowered your arm as Nero’s toned body behind you relaxed significantly though he hadn’t lowered his guard once; having eased a little bit now that the details were revealed. You didn’t know whether it was because he empathized with a man who lost his longtime lover or considering his origins and where he was raised, it was because he found the idea of a man and another man in love baffling. You had a feeling it was a fair mixture of both, but you didn’t voice your concerns. “You just want to. What for, a man? A man can’t make a difference.”

 

“Not just a man; he’s family.” You couldn’t help yourself, lips pursing with the need to defend a man you had never before met, not once outside your dreams and visions. “Depends on the man.” Nero supported your statement, voice no longer a deep, threatening snarl in his throat. “I’d say a man strong enough ta be some sorta legend down there slayin’ demons is a worthy ally.” And maybe a father he would get to meet, you thought; even if you weren’t sure how much of a father he could or would be after all those years. Not that it mattered; Vergil was a brother, a dead man alive. He was family; not yours, but Dante’s and Nero’s. Even if it was all for a man, which it wasn’t given Amaranth was stuck on this side and you needed to a lot more than just find the bad demon and cut through him to end this, you needed to take down an army along with the king and the queen; it was worth it.

 

“I can’t give them to you.” Ollie said once he had tossed the sword he had been holding to the floor, looking at the wall on which the katana stood wrapped in glory. By then, you were the one standing behind Nero’s back with his arm shielding you from any possible danger, still vary. You felt the way his shoulders tensed when Ollie spoke, ready to put up a fight. “Even if I wanted to. My great great great grandfather made them years ago, when he was still so young and naïve. His finest creations, Muramasa, Masamoto, Masamune and Yamato. They were the finest he had ever made. And Oriax, he was the one to whisper life into them. One to use them. Yamato sought Sparda. Masamune sought Belphegor. The other two were inseparable even back in the day, and belonged to him. Sparda passed Yamato down to his son. Masamune was cut through in a battle shielding its owner from death. Now they can only be passed down to someone who’s deemed worthy after having gone through a trial unknown to men; they only let those who are worthy hold them. Many before you come for the sword, but they only perished.”

 

“So yer sayin’ they’re useless?” Nero’s comment earned him a sharp glare from the old man and he turned to face you once again, eyebrows drawn together. “They’re not useless, they just think you are.” Nero scoffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest now that he had Red Queen strapped to his back.

 

“So what do we—” You never got to hear Amaranth ask what you would do from then on because a bloodcurdling scream resonated in the area, sending chills down your spine. The night sky was darker than ever almost as if the sound scared even the stars in the sky away, leaving you alone and in danger at night. It was anything but pleasant as it made you recall what happened on that night, how broken and hurt you were when you first woke up. You didn’t want that happening to anyone, ever again. Everything you had ever been taught by Nero seemed to be forgotten by you and you found yourself taking an instinctive step closer to Nero, who was busy listening to the sound and trying to pinpoint its source. You didn’t think you had seen him more focused before— he was concerned. You were holding him back.

 

Soon though, neither of you were left with any other choice, nor could you afford to have doubts at this point as the ground was shaking, the stone walls of the shop were slowly coming undone as if they were being pulled by a massive force they couldn’t withstand. The sound of the bottles in the storage falling caught your ears; hundreds of years old wine bottles meeting the floor.

 

“Nero. You have to go. It’s not normal, something bad is happening out there, something worse—” The look he gave you spoke for itself; he looked at you as if you were out of your mind, as if you had gone insane. “Hell if ‘m leavin’ you all alone here!”

 

“You don’t have a choice, _we_ don’t! This is what _one_ sounds like, Nero! There are more coming, these people need you to keep them alive. I’ll take Ollie and Amaranth out of the area, fast as I can. They won’t be able to follow; I didn’t realize it before but, Anaon itself is a circle. It blocks everything that’s not supposed to be here out.” You argued, but was stopped short by Nero’s hands cupping your cheeks, jerking you a little so you had to balance yourself on your toes to be able to look into his eyes, your hands coming to rest on top of his. The gears in your mind were turning and clicking into place rapidly. It was thirty minutes’ walk from here out of the area, even if you ran with all your mind, he would still lose a good ten minutes he could spend saving people. Not to mention the fact that if he saw where they were coming from, they could locate the hellgates they had been trying to find for so long. There was no other choice but to be brave this one, face your fears and split into groups; Nero would actually be useful being the one with years of experience and sharp senses of a physically superior being. It seemed that he didn’t need to be reassured or told twice though, he must have been thinking the same thing. “I dun wanna leave ya behind. I couldn’t take it if—”

 

“I promised you I wouldn’t go running anywhere without you, but we will have to improvise. I swear, Nero, on my life. I won’t die that easily.” His tongue wetted his lips before they met yours for only a brief second before another howl, much louder, much scarier this time made you break apart. Before you knew it, Nero was leaving, not stopping to glance back at you; you thought for fear that he wouldn’t stick to the plan. You knew he could hold his own out there, lord knew what he was really capable of; it was you three whom you were genuinely concerned about. A demon in a seven year old’s body and an actual seven years old whom you thought could even walk let alone run thirty minutes— you were doomed. You still concealed your growing concern professionally as you looked at the two respectively. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

“The swords!” Ollie exclaimed, reaching to remove the wooden stand the swords were carefully hung on. “We need to take the swords! They’re coming! They’re coming for real this time!” Great, you thought as you helped Ollie remove the stand and secure it under your arm as you were doubtlessly the most capable and agile one of the three of you without actually trying to touch the swords, now it was just you, an old man, a child, and a thirty pound stand.

 

As you tried to run out of the city with its contents and architecture crumbling beneath your feet and above you, the question ‘Can this get any worse?’ loosely lingered on your mind— it shouldn’t have, you didn’t even know who heard you or why thought it would be a brilliant idea to prove you wrong, but you were distracted by a couple of stray raindrops until it was a downpour and you were stuck in the middle of it. And it wasn’t the worse part of it all; it was how you fell onto your knees and scraped the skin there so deep that it hurt to run no matter how quickly you were ushered back up on your feet after that, it was how your body still ached terribly with your only recently healed injuries, it was how fast all this calamitous nightmare was unfolding before your eyes with you stuck in the middle of it— trying to run for your lives with whatever little life you thought you had left in you.

 

“Come on, guys! We have to get out of here!”

 

The images were blurred and the city was coming down, fluctuating unnaturally; parts of buildings were pulled away and they hung in the air, so did the ground which created large gaps for you to be able to jump over and even the sky itself turned into a reddish brown, the rain making it hard to see, hard to run without slipping once again. Your feet ached with the strain and your arms were tired, your knees hurt with every step you took. You were the one holding the stand beneath one arm and had the other looped through Ollie’s whom you pretty much dragged than helped run, and thankfully Amaranth was fast enough, holding onto his other arm and helping you along this disaster. You thought briefly whether the city was being pulled into limbo, but the increasing number of the beasts you started running into, screaming loudly before changing your way changed your mind; it wasn’t the city or the limbo— it was the big thing coming at you, it was the real show starting.

 

Right on cue, you thought, when the ground breaking and ascending right below your feet, sent the three of you off balance, the casing long fallen and forgotten. Somehow, the piece of asphalt you were on remained still in the air, with you holding both Ollie and Amaranth to yourself instinctively as if your fragile and freezing body could shield them from anything at all. Still you weren’t ready to go down without a fight. You were ready to face one of those things you had once been hunted by, only it wasn’t. It was the nightmare itself, it was the gory and the unforgiving self of Arachne in flesh and blood. Your ears were deaf to your own screams but you could hear the sound of Ollie praying right next to you over the rain, and Amaranth’s wrath.

 

You took in her appearance, and the sight alone was enough to stun you into stillness, leaving you unable to move a finger. If you thought the demon that had attacked you was huge, Arachne was gigantic and unforgiving in her glorious gore; a sight fitting for nightmares. Even from were you were held captive in air, you had to look up at what seemed to be her head. She had the body of a spider, a round head on a round body, with silver locks of hair framing her head and falling on her back— covered in spikes. Only the silver locks you mistook for hair were long, long, elastic blades. One flap of her hair could leave you in julienne stripped and maybe you would be lucky and grateful she didn’t use one of her eight, very scary ad sharp looking arms, shining under the reddish moon. As her red orbs took in the sight of you trembling, you gulped, trying to appear somewhat tougher. You just needed to make sure she was occupied for long enough until Nero arrived. There was no way he could have missed the gigantic spider in the middle of the city. You just hoped Lady and Trish evacuated it in time, glad you didn’t waste any more time before you took the action. Something must have triggered this onslaught, and you had a wild idea who. You.

 

 **“You humans are weak, pathetic. I have not yet realized, however, how ignorant. I believe it is in our mutual interests, after all, to dare I say, knock on hell’s door.”** She chuckled. Perhaps she was expecting you to do the same; find it endearing, because when you didn’t the smile on her black lips dissolvedy into nothingness and inhumane features molded into that of discontentment. **“How curious. I would at least expect the son of Sparda to kiss my feet, but it is you. A useless man, a useless woman, and a disowned daughter. Were you always this young? My, my, time flies by fast.”** Wiser than you, apparently, you thought as Amaranth didn’t utter a word to her chatty step-mother despite her relentless remarks. **“If you are to return what I seek without resistance, I might even be kind enough to spare your lives.”**

“Yeah, well.” Your voice cracked, but you managed to speak anyway, which was good enough for you. Keep going, keep going for long enough until Nero arrived, keep going— You had a gun, a shotgun you could use long enough to distract her and the worst case scenario; be the bait, do some gravity tricks while the two escape with the swords. For now, all you needed was courage. Confidence you didn’t think you had, it seemed to come with the fear of death you supposed. And sass, maybe. “That’s not happening anytime soon. Like, we’re really grateful you decided to throw a party tonight, set the mood… The rain and all, really dramatic, awesome. But, uh. Yeah, that’s not happening.”

 

**“Ridiculous, your mutiny. I shall dye the land red with your blood for your arrogance and defiance!”**

Your words must have ticked her off, because she was coming for you, and she was coming for your blood. Your blood boiled in your veins and you closed your eyes tightly, holding Ollie and Amaranth closer to you. You were left helpless, you didn’t think you could get up once again now that your knees were ruined from your fall earlier, and you didn’t think you could survive a ten feet fall in your state. You ended up dragging not only yourself into this mess but those who were already in it even deeper down where there was no return. Desperation— you were desperate. Nero wasn’t fast enough, it was only normal, what wasn’t was the fact that you had to rely on him to keep you safe. You told him that you would live, that you wouldn’t die. In the end, breaking your promise was no different than watching everyone die in vain. It wouldn’t end here, you knew. Even if you died, Dante would come looking for you with Yamato still in his possession. He would kill this monster even if he didn’t avenge your bloody deaths, he would secure the gates and he would end this once and for all. But it didn’t sit right with you— the idea of dying in vain. The idea of causing the death of two more.

 

You didn’t want to die.

Not yet.

 

So you screamed, not having a volume for your voice. You screamed so loudly that your throats burned with the effort of doing so and your lungs ran out of air. You screamed and squeezed your eyes so tightly that not even a flicker of light could get through and you clenched your hands into fists so hard that your arms shook with the effort of doing so. The thought of how many people this thing caused to die filled you and ignited a fire that blazed in you and burned you from inside out, sparking a will in you that you didn’t think you had. Time seemed to have slowed down when you opened your eyes, droplets of rain hanging loosely in the air whereas everything around you moved; only much slower than before.

 

You saw the way Arachne’s mouth remained open as she screamed at you, and you saw the way the moonlight illuminated her sharp claws pointed and approaching your way. From the corner of your eye, you could see your companions’ horrified expressions— Ollie looked utterly terrified and was holding onto you as tightly as he was holding onto the swords and Amaranth was forced back to sit on her butt, her eyes wide and arms held in front of her as if a gesture so simplistic could prevent her from being hurt. Hurt, again. She hurt you before, she hurt Amaranth by seducing her loyal father and killing her mother and she hurt Olivier. She resulted in the demise of so many innocent people that it angered you beyond your mortal comprehension.

 

You wanted _her_ dead.

 

You stood up straight on your feet determinedly, unmoving and unforgiving, as the raindrops around you started moving to create the image you had set in mind. Thousands and thousands of water droplets forged into one to form gigantic stalactite which then solidified as ice, positioned right in front of you. Another one formed on her left and one behind her back. You weren’t fast enough, though, because before you could impale the monster, everything started moving faster, at the speed they should. Suddenly, you were face to face with one of her eight claws attached to one limb of eight, and although you basically tossed yourself to your left, you still couldn’t duck in time and save your left shoulder from being cut through completely, piercing through the skin like a needle. You could only choke on a pained howl that got stuck in your throat, distracted long enough for her to flip you off the piece of hovering ground you were on effortlessly.

 

You didn’t know whether it was because your instincts had sharpened over the time or because you were just a little too lucky, but you didn’t face plant on the ground after a six feet fall or you didn’t get slammed into solid rocks; you held onto the side of the hovering concrete before you could fall, your legs dangled below you, your nails hurt and you were pretty sure you broke a few fingers, not to mention the bloodcurdling pain in your left shoulder almost made you let go, instead you held on for dear life until Amaranth could somehow tug your upper body upwards. You could feel a coppery warmth pooling in your mouth and something wet and sticky trailing down the side of your face, but you took the time to glare at Arachne once you were on your knees on the concrete. If she wasn’t letting you out of the area, then she wasn’t going anywhere as well; so you mustered all your hatred and will to live inside you and before anyone could say anything, the ice stalactites you formed out of rain charged at the creature. One missed her, one managed to pin through a limb and slow her, and the last one must have hurt the most judging by the loud screech she hissed. You didn’t have the energy to fight her off, but as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the rest of the droplets came falling down in form of small, sharp ice needles— not too effective, but enough to hold her captive for long enough. Beside you, you could hear Amaranth’s surprise and Ollie’s prayers as he hugged the swords close, utterly stunned at what he just witnessed; placing the pieces together to form the bigger picture.

 

The sight of the swords sparked an idea in your mind. There you had a pair of swords that could cut through dimensions, time and space itself, and you were shielding them with your very life when it should have been the other way around from the beginning. You didn’t care if they were cursed artifacts that only chose their worthy wielders, you didn’t care if you couldn’t touch them without having your hands turned into ice and shattered into a million pieces; none of this would mean anything if you didn’t make it through this, anyway. You took a deep breath and spitted out the blood pooling in your mouth before getting back up on your shaky feet, looking down at Ollie and speaking over the sound of Arachne’s hissing and curses.

 

“Give me the swords!” Your exclamation resonated and apparently it reached the old man’s ears crystal clear because he was looking at you as if you just asked him to sacrifice a goat for some sort of a cow god. You didn’t need to hear the legend again to know what those swords would do to you if you weren’t worthy; however, there were couple of pressing issues that needed resolving— firstly, you had no way of knowing whether you were worthy, so learning that could only be done so through holding the swords. Secondly, someone would need to hold them anyway if you wanted to open the hellgates first, which you needed to get Vergil out of there and to actually be able to slay this demon and her evil husband once and for all. And lastly, you would take living with no hands over dying helplessly in the middle of absurdity itself. So before Ollie could preach you, you exclaimed loudly and leaned closer; your battered body protesting at that. “I don’t care what happens, just do it, come on!”

 

Olivier seemed more concerned about his life than your safety and the consequences, not that you blamed him for it, and handed them to you easily enough. So you took a deep breath and gulped down the lump in your throat before holding onto the swords by their handles, Muramasa in your left hand and Masamoto in your right, and yanking them out of their sheaths.

_‘How curious, after all this time.’_ A voice called out to you when you decided to take a leap of faith off the concrete to do your best at killing this thing given Arachne managed to break free of the ice holding her down and was no longer effected by the icy needles raining down on her. _‘Being held by the hands of a…’_

Being no expert related to anything like this at all, you only managed to swing the both of them downwards at the same time even if you thought it to be a stretch considering rapidly closing distance between you and the demon, you were hoping to, genuinely wanting to harm it if not send it back to hell. It seemed like a really good idea at the time, jumping off from six feet above and you proved to be right since her attention was no longer on the piece of concrete on which Amaranth and Ollie stood captive and instead on you since you managed to revoke her anger beyond her comprehension; but you were quick enough to realize you had nowhere else to go after that other than down and to many broken bones if not your death. At least the swords weren’t freezing your hands off, right?

 

Your horrified scream, the sound of blades cutting through leathery flesh and Arachne’s pained cry melded into one mess dissolved by the deafening sound of thunders rumbling and the city falling apart; you could only close your eyes and wait to meet the ground— only you never did, twice in a row. You thought for a second that you were lucky, except it wasn’t luck saving you this time.

 

It was a gigantic demonic hand that grabbed you in mid-air before you could kiss the ground; materialized energy able to grasp your battered self gently— claw-life, very familiar fingers curled around your face, only way larger. Following the brownish red and the baby blue lead you down to the pattern of a very familiar arm, blue aura dissolved when it reached a way smaller fist shaped exactly the same, held up towards you.

 

“Nero!” You weren’t sure if you were crying tears of relief or shock or of something you weren’t even sure what. One thing you knew for certain was how safe you felt in his hold, and how it made you break down after the initial shock wore off. You were gently lowered to the ground and into the arms of your lover, who held you as tightly as he could without causing you further damage. You could feel the strain in his arms and his shaky breaths on your skin as he inhaled your scent and peppered your face with kisses, palm gently cupping your neck to keep you close even though his lips were desperate and his kisses could only reflect so much of it. You were on the tips of your toes as it was him who was holding most of your weight up, arms on your either side with Muramasa and Masamoto held loosely in your hands. Nero’s right arm was glowing, something the both of you noticed but seemed to pay no mind to.

 

“I’m here now baby, s’aight, I swear. You did good, yeah? Really good. Sorry I’m late, I shoulda—” He gently brushed your wet locks from your face as his other arm remained wrapped around your waist tightly; the tips of his fingers caressed your skin to make sure you were okay, going over your busted lip and your possibly broken cheekbone before trailing up to your temple where you were still bleeding. You shook your head as he spoke, eyes closed tightly and your face buried in his chest, not wanting to hear his apologies and how he wished he could have stopped this earlier as his being here right there with you meant more than his words ever could. “Thank you, Nero, thank you, I was—”

 

“You’ll have all the time for that later, you two lovebirds. Right now, we have more pressing matters to attend to.” A familiar voice offered and you saw Trish when you turned your head to look at its source, making her way over in all her glory. Behind her, you could see Lady firing her bazooka at your seemingly defeat enemy, who you could now clearly see was missing two of her eight limbs. Had you done that? You looked at Arachne stunned with your lips parted in surprise as she hissed and retreated back into her realm before Lady could end her life— taking all the disastrous calamity with her. As she disappeared, the parts of the city that were floating unnaturally in air came raining down. Trish hopped her way upwards gracefully as if she were some sort of a ballerina dancing in the rain and Nero crushed you to himself and shielded your injured self with his own body, preventing you from getting any more hurt. The sounds subdued and as the dirt settled down, You saw Trish and Lady settled a few meters away from you; Lady was holding Amaranth close and Trish was supporting an unconscious Ollie by his arm around her neck. You were alive. As your widened eyes met Nero’s icy blue ones; realization hit you.

 

You were alive and holding the twin swords.

Your hands intact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lower quality, I am still waiting for when I'll have the time to go through all these chapters and improve them. It'll happen at some point.  
> Thank you for your comments and feedback, I really love to hear from you! I would love to do so from now on, so please let me know what you think about this!


	16. sanctuary;

_You were alive and holding the twin swords._

_Your hands intact._

 

He couldn’t have cared less. Wherever he was from, whoever his parents were as neither of it meant anything to him; he had always been the bastard child without a father and whore of a mother. It wasn’t like he hated them with burning passion either; the poor woman who was unfortunate enough to be her mother had enough on her plate selling love to another man every other night – not that he ever met her, really, but he could imagine how much of a damage he had done to the business for some nine months – and his father was, well, whoever he was. He had never cared much for them; not when he already had a family of his own— a loving ‘mother’ and a ‘father’, their beautiful daughter and fierce son. They made quite the family; he had an older brother and an older sister who looked after him and cleaned up his messes for so long. He didn’t have his parents to be grateful to, he had them, whom he owed his life to.

 

Admittedly, it was the fact that he was actually related to Dante that baffled him; he had always thought that they shared more than a beneficial bond and even when they first met, Dante had been familiar; it was that familiarity that made him trust Dante even when he first introduced himself into their lives as an antagonist. He would rather feed on the stew of his own tongue than call him ‘uncle’, not once, not ever. He had never known his twin, Nero’s father, other than from his stories and the tales told on them; as Dante would put it, ‘some punk with a stick inserted deep in his asshole’. It wasn’t as if he would care whatever his biological father thought of him nor was he concerned about the lack of a bond or the future— he would be more of a stranger if anything. So what if they kicked him out? Oh, boo hoo, he would just have to suck it up, it was what he had always done. So lingered indifference, or so he thought.

 

It was the surprise on Dante’s face melding into one of utter loss, followed soon by an unfamiliar happiness on his face. Had he ever seen him like that, smile so bright at the mention of his brother and the possibility of his being alive? Hope was something he had never had the chance of seeing on Dante’s aged features for he had lived long enough to know what was coming at him. He was always prepared, always sharp, quick, merciless in his wake. Never one to falter or lose focus in a battle; he had been through enough to toy with his enemies, to manipulate them into bringing him whatever joy and amusement they could muster in the short span of their lives. However whatever he had seen on Dante’s face that day, was unmistakably; hope.

 

It was the way your voice cracked when you confessed to the truth through your abilities; the way you nearly choked on your words and the way your bright eyes blurred with unshed tears, for whom he didn’t know, he never knew; nothing except the fact that he wanted to spill some blood whenever he had to see you broken into little pieces like that. Did you have your heart broken, aching for Dante for you could see through his armor of sarcasm and dry humor almost better than anyone else? Did you have your heart aching for his father, Vergil he learned it to be, who had spent some twenty years down in the pit on the run trying his utter best to hold on and survive against all the odds? Or were those tears for him, for he had found his father, for you didn’t know how he felt about that truly, for you were scared of what would come of them? He didn’t really care, nothing really mattered when you were upset anyway, whatever the cause. He would find it, he swore on his pride and your safety, he would eliminate it slowly, thoroughly.

 

But could he, really? You were wild; delicate yet fierce— a thorny rose. You had blossomed into something so beautiful so quickly that he hadn’t had the time to appreciate your growth; you didn’t see you had the luxury to wait and fool around. Determined, a blaze burned brightly in your heart and you tried and tried, worked and worked, trained and trained harder until you molded yourself into a fighter; admittedly nowhere near as experienced as Dante or him nor as agile and swift, however, what you lacked in physicality you made up for with your wisdom. Your quick wit; your senses sharpened and your mind on fire. You were truly a gem with the ability to come up with at least fifteen strategies when approaching a situation, all considering the best of interest; like a trained commander to lead armies and battle wars— and at first, he chose to remain ignorant to how quickly you blossomed. It was easier to pretend you needed his protection than to admit that one day, as he promised, you would have his back as he had yours all along.

 

Had he been present, Credo would have scolded him for his naivety.

 

Before he knew it, you were ready to risk your very own life if it meant you could defend innocent people and keep them out of a battle they had no relation to but somehow were dragged right into the middle of it. Before he knew it, you were standing right in the middle of hell with the most deadly and merciless swords in either hand after having been deemed worthy by them; your hair all wild and body broken in the wilderness, the blood of enemies painting your flawless features. A second. Had he been a second too late, you would have been dead. You would have been dead, and it would be his fault in the first place for having dragged you into this world, this whole mess.

 

If you were anything at all, it was definitely not fearless. Yet then, even with your legs bleeding and your shoulder sliced through, you had no complaints leaving your lips; only instructions to get you to the closest possible victory, the end to all this. He could read your face, your body, your gestures that went blind even to yourself— the way your brows would furrow ever so slightly every once in a while and the way your lips would twitch uncomfortably, the way you would have to shift your weight on your feet every now and then, the way your fingers would curl tighter around the handles of your newly acquired swords. You were in immense pain, body not used to going such lengths in the short amount of time he spent training you, but you were still formulating, still thinking and even as he was wallowing in his own failures, in his own demons for letting you get hurt like that, he was falling even deeper for you.

 

It was your idea to split; two of the gates were located next to each other whereas the other one, as it would seem would be unlocked by Yamato, was on the other side of the distinct. He couldn’t afford to let you go by yourself and you agreed, saying you were in no condition to keep up. It was your idea that he gave Yamato to Trish, who was swifter in comparison to Lady, to sheathe it into the hellgate whereas the two of you played you part. He didn’t even have to speak a word for you to see through him; how he was reluctant, what he wanted to say. He needed Yamato, it was the sword that helped him trigger the demon residing within him, it was thanks to the sword that he could pull on that thread and force another-wordly power onto himself. And yet again, it was you who smiled at him and shook your head at him for his foolishness; who explained to him he was just able to do so because he believed he needed Yamato whereas it was merely a sword in his possession. Even if he didn’t have Yamato to wield one day, he would still have the blood of a half demon, and he could always chase that spark for it was a part of him.

 

It was thanks to you that he devil triggered without wielding Yamato for the first time, and even when his voice took on a four dimensional edge and resonated within his chest; you didn’t blink in fear. It was, for the first time ever, admiration. The again, he had his many firsts with you; no one had had admired his demonic heritage before like you had, and no one thought of his arm as anything more than an abomination but something to love as it was a part of him. He was going to go as far to say you couldn’t surprise him anymore. However it was only expected he was. As you were keeping the gates open long enough for Dante to get Vergil out on the other side, which meant Arachne and all other kinds of nightmare could also use this chance to slip through and unleash calamity upon the city, it was him who faced Arachne head on this time.

 

But it was you who slashed through the demon when he lowered his guard for the briefest of seconds. It was you the light of Arachne’s deceased body went to; it was you whom it deemed worthy enough to wield her.

 

It was in your hands Arachne formed a devil arm.

 

Not that you cared much for it; surprise was evident on your face along with a pinch of undeniable confusion, but your priorities were farm from exploring and playing around with the newly equipped weapon of yours, no; much to his astonishment you came running straight to him to see if he was okay, if he was injured, if he needed any of his wounds tended to— a redundant concern on your part given he was more a demon than a human and unlike your injuries, nothing did significant physical harm on him. You still did, and you gave him a scolding scoff when he told you that he was fine with a chuckle and that if you had anyone to worry about it was yourself. You told him that he was important, that he mattered, that you wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt him.

 

And when you finally sliced through the gates to keep them closed for the rest of eternity and somehow made it back in one piece; finally, he was the one to sew you back into one piece. But then you fell asleep in his arms; and for a moment, he forgot what he really was, where he was, that his newly recovered next of kin was being nurtured back to health some two apartments over where Dante deemed safe. Your scent filled his nostrils and lingered there, your soft locks lingered just underneath his jawline where he had your head tucked. His icy blue orbs roamed aimlessly on the ceiling before falling shut.

 

He must have been lulled to sleep in the comfort of your arms as he was stirred awake when he felt the softness of your lips brushing over his defined cheekbones so gently he almost mistook it for bits and pieces of an unseen dream. Then it was the warm puffs of your breath tickling his face, and your gentle fingers running along his jawline; your touch lighter than a feather as you believed him to be sleeping and didn’t want to shake him awake, especially when you thought he really could use it. It was the kindness laying beneath your actions that warmed him from inside out—a feeling he never got around to being able to express, to understand and conquer; one that you aroused within him, one that was unlike anything else he had ever felt.

 

His lips must have twitched up into the ghost of a smile when yours brushed over his and given away the secret of his being awake because he felt your amused huff tickling his face before you kissed him fully on the lips, sighed almost dreamily and brushed his white locks back by combing your fingers through them. He didn’t differ from a tamed lion then, a low purr resonated within his chest when he felt your short nails scraping his scalp and drove him nearly wild with the scent that was your natural perfume; his own hands coming up to cup your cheeks, one slipping behind your head to press you closer and show you he meant it. He meant every unspoken word and every brush of skin against each other— he meant everything. You meant everything. It was playful and daring when he scoffed in amusement briefly and the tip of his tongue ran over your bottom lip ever so lightly, expecting you to give into him like you always had. Except not this time, and he didn’t have it in him to be surprised; only deemed a snort enough.

 

You only parted to huff out another silent laughter, kisses shallow and more breath than anything else since you were grinning wide above him, finding pleasure in his torment and entertainment in the way he wanted more but you wouldn’t give into his selfishness. How he wanted you to give in; he had for a while now, for longer than he could even remember. He had always had a beast within him but it only stirred awake in face of his enemies and somehow, in your presence. It growled at him and clawed at his chest just to let loose a little and have your back pressed up against the nearest wall and your legs wrapped around him, however was held captive by his ribs and the leash of control he had around it, bound so tightly that it hurt his hands too. His thoughts were rude before he was even allowed to think about you the way he would, about your lips and about your skin against his. But now that he had what he longed for, he couldn’t help wanting more no matter how morally wrong it was and how he thought he had been raised to be a better man than to let the woman of his dreams be the lead actress in his wildest moments.

 

You deserved the best; deserved to be treated like a queen, a goddess and worshipped each time you did so much as to glance and smile at him for he couldn’t have been luckier to ben in your presence. Yet there he was, making you subject to such rude thoughts; wanting your soul to linger next to his even when he could swear you were his woman.

 

You were his woman. And the thought alone was enough to dust his cheeks visibly with red and brows furrow in discomfort of his embarrassment which he swore knew no bounds.

 

“Nero…” Your voice was not louder than a mere whisper next to his ear, but he could hardly listen to what you meant to say when you moved on your knees and almost unceremoniously shifted one of your bare legs over his so that you were sitting on him; your hair a tousled mess, one of the thin straps of your black tank-top fallen and your shorts ridden up your thighs to reveal more of the supple skin beneath. Your cheeks were dusted faintly and your lips swollen both from your kisses and having just woken up, eyes still puffy and voice not having lost the raspy morning tone it held when you first woke up. The sight was like a swift punch to his guts and he could only part his lips soundlessly in your wake. His hands twitched unknowingly before settling unsurely low on your knees, at which you smiled wider. “Yeah?” He could manage at last.

 

“You look so good like this, hair a mess and breath short.” You commented, and you intended to say more but it was enough, really, to encourage the uncomfortable tightening of his pants where you were pressed up against, the friction of the slightest of your movements making him crazy. The sincerity behind your words was evident in the way you looked down at him lovingly and as your fingers settled on his palms on your knees and tangled with them, you were like the first of morning sunshine. You grasped his hands tightly and guided them up your exposed thighs with a pinch of shyness to your touch, your own hands having gone cold from embarrassment and nervousness. Determination was present in the way you looked at him though. “Nero, I…”

 

“You sure?” He asked, maybe a little too quickly not to be suspicious, with a voice he didn’t recognize to be his own. He might have been far too gone then, understanding the meaning that laid beneath your words and honestly not finding it in himself not to be a little too eager about it. He had to lick his lips for they had dried from his heavy breathing before he spoke, feeling the chapped texture on his tongue. “’Cause I’ve been… thinkin’ for a while.”

 

Recognition marred the flawless features of yours that he so adored, giving him more than enough to know that the feeling was mutual; had been so for quite some time now. He had half a min to just rid you of your clothes as soon as physically available and bury himself deep within you into the mattress, however he had known better. Neither of you had been touched by the hands of another in such intimate fashion before, and he wanted it to be at least somewhat decent for you, something worth remembering.

 

It was nothing beyond instinctive when he sat up effortlessly, his own navy blue shirt having ridden up to reveal his abdominal muscles clenching with the movement. You seemed tantalized by the simplest of gestures, your lands laying on his stomach after making sure his stayed low on your hips and trailing the tips of your fingers over the milky skin. Your touch sent chills down his spine, and he leaned in to breathe in your scent and capture your lips with his in a kiss which got progressively more aggressive until you both had each other panting into the kiss. Your hands were relentless; trailing from up his stomach to his chest where they slipped behind his shoulders and ran down his biceps appreciatively, working him up. He was busy himself, fingers dragging the hem of your tank-top further up so he could touch your bare skin with his left hand, the other patiently waiting where you first left it. “Can I…?”

 

It was only after you nodded in affirmative did his right hand join his left to drag the material of your top up and off your body, the heel of his left palm making contact with the warmth of your skin. He stopped short when he came to your shoulders and you lifted your arms up best as you could to help it get it off, though the slightest of winches on your face didn’t go unnoticed. It had hardly been a day, which was enough for his demonic heritage to nurse him back to health, was nowhere nearly enough for your fragile human self to heal itself. As soon as you were back, he popped your shoulder back into place and stitched whatever wound that was too deep and needed to be tended to. He could see now, the angry purples and blues dotted all over your body and blended in unprofessionally; your shoulder was still sore and raising your arms put pressure on the stitches, your arms and a deep cut starting from under your left breast running to your hipbone. He crumpled the top into a ball of sorts and tossed it away.

 

Seeing you like this made his blood boil in anger. He should have been there, Dante should have been there; someone should have done something before you got dragged throat deep into their messes. It wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle considering what they saw back in Fortuna involving sixty feet statues flying in the sky and the island itself being torn apart into a thousand pieces; it was just another day to day job for them but for you, it was all sorts of extreme, unforeseen. You didn’t even get to cut through a few demons and chop them up finely as a means of practice before you were thrown right into the middle of chaotic mess; even he had a long time to practice his skills and sharpen his body and reflexes to perfection. You still made it out alive, but barely. What if he hadn’t been there on time? What if he had been late by a minute? A second? He would then have to peel your lifeless body off the concrete and go on his wayward in an attempt to rid himself of his past and guilt and his failures and everything he couldn’t do but should have.

 

He snapped back to the moment when one of your hands laid on his cheek and gently urged him to look at you, to meet your eyes. He hadn’t told you yet; he told you how sorry he was and that you were okay now that he came, but he hadn’t told you about the suffocating weight on his chest holding him down regarding what came of you.

 

“Nero, look at me. Baby, it’s okay. I know. I know how you feel, yeah?” You assured, and he didn’t doubt you because you did, if you said you did then you would know it— you seemed to know him better than anyone else did, you seemed to be able to read him like an open book even when he was a foreigner to his own feelings. You would know, of course, maybe you would relate. But could anything even take away that feeling of— “…Misery, I know. You thought that I was going to die. And I’m pretty sure I would if it weren’t for you. Let go of what ifs, Nero. We’re here right now, in each other’s arms. I’m alive thanks to you, you’re alive, so is Amaranth and Ollie and hey. Nero, Vergil is alive. Doesn’t matter what you think of him, doesn’t matter what you’ll say when we finally see him, someone else on our side who has been gone for far too long is alive. You can’t say that I’d be better off without you or if I had never met you, because that’s unfair and not true and you know that’s not, because I can’t be the only one who knows it was meant to be. We’re going to get better, I will, and we’ll live, I promise. I promise none of this if your fault.”

 

He wouldn’t have believed the words you spoke had they come from anyone else, but he did. He believed you wholeheartedly, he trusted you to his core and if you asked for his soul he would gladly give it to you. He trusted you more than he trusted himself with anyone and anything; whatever you said to him, you must have done so because you knew something he didn’t— you always knew something he didn’t, you always had something to say when he didn’t.

 

Like he could go on talking about how he couldn’t care less about who his biological father was and that he was coming back from the pit of hell, but he did. He did, he cared more than anyone could. Even if he never met the man once, he was dying just to see him, just to hear his voice, just to know if it was the same man as the one talking to him in his dreams, when he was face to face with death; if he was the same man as the one who granted him a greater power when he was on the brink of death and he needed it more than anything. He was just lost in the end, trying to act indifferent, as if he didn’t really care was talking its toll on him after all. Then again, someone had to be the anchor, he thought, it was Dante’s brother and you felt the pain of those whom you had never even met before, so it had to be him, he thought— but it was you. Because Vergil, the man whom he had yet to see, was Dante’s twin brother and his father. You anchored Dante and him, you acted as a bridge between the two, you did more than anyone else could have, would have. And now, you were basically telling him to let go, that you knew how he felt, that it was okay to feel the way he did, that he didn’t have to shoulder the responsibilities that came with something so grand all by himself as he intended to.

 

Your name left his lips in a desperate plea; he wanted to thank you and maybe embarrass himself even further by blurting out his undying love for you, but you didn’t have any of it. You urged your lips back on his, and you curled your fingers around his shirt to tug it off. Your lips touched whatever skin they could and you eased him of all his worries, all his insecurities as you always had. Your fingers lingered where the demonic skin met his milky one, where the two blended you kissed, your touch accepting and loving— he wasn’t all human and you knew, but you were okay with it, and it made a faint pink dust down his neck, to his chest.

 

You hadn’t expected him to hold you by the waist and haul you as if you weighed nothing to lay you on the bed on your back, as evidenced by the way you squealed a laughter into the crook of his neck. The sound was contagious, and your face was bright when you smiled so wide it made him grin in turn.

 

Your lips met, your fingers tangled.

One by one, clothes came off until he was bare before you and she was before him.

He didn’t know anything, but her then.

 

It wasn’t the act of making love that was heavenly.

It was her that was sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series will soon come to an end! So I would like to thank everyone who stuck long enough to see it so far. I appreciate your comments and your feedback, they motivate me to finish this against all the odds and never fail to put a smile on my face. I would love to hear from you.


	17. revelations;

_It wasn’t the act of making love that was heavenly._   
_It was her that was sanctuary._

When you saw him, really got to see him for the first time since his calling out to you, it was the morning after of the night you spent with Nero in Devil May Cry and he was all alone, you were all alone, and Vergil was definitely nothing like the man you had seen in your visions.

His silvers locks –once were long enough to reach his shoulders and you could tell by the unruly way they looked wild, he often seemed to lose his temper with their constantly obstructing his movements and cut them short— were trimmed nicely in a way that complimented his milky complexion; down to a length much similar to that of Dante’s, except the way it was styled was nothing like the other hunter’s, instead slicked back neatly with a curve where they begun. Silver beard grown on the older man’s face had also been trimmed and shaven clean, making him reflect his actual age, looking much younger in comparison to the way he looked before, and evidently his ‘younger’ brother. He was sitting on the leather couch you occupied for quite a while back in the day, cross legged, in that his ankle rested on his opposite knee, dressed sharply in a black and white suit.

When striking icy blue orbs looked in your way; it was impossible to miss the resemblance.

You weren’t sure for one second if you saw a younger Dante looking at you, or Nero himself. Except Vergil’s calculating gaze was colder— he was so cold that it sent shivers down your spine, rendering you unable to move down the stairs you were taking down. So there you stood in the middle of the stairs, in nothing but one of Nero’s baggy sweatshirts, which were long enough to drape over your thighs and black leggings— looking like a mess. You instantly grew uncomfortable, a hand flew to smooth your hair and you made sure you looked more presentable and less of an eyesore. God, you were a mess, and it would have been fine if it were anyone else sitting in front of you, however Vergil he was and you had no idea why you were so terrified of him, but you were. Luckily for you, you presumed, since he hadn’t gotten rid of you yet.

Once your bare feet hit the wooden floor, the split ends irritated your bare skin to no end and you leaned against the edge of Dante’s desk than to violate the other’s personal space any further. Frankly, you enjoyed your life even though it was a mess and you weren’t exactly sure where you were going with it. You were reluctant to engage in a conversation, but the more you let the silence hang heavily in the air around you the more disturbingly awkward it would get— so you opened your mouth to maybe ask him how he was, maybe not thinking straight.

“You haven’t aged.”

Alright, you didn’t mean to do that. No, you didn’t— if he would stop giving you this look, you would have thought of something better but you couldn’t have, really, how cou-ld you—?! You had known Dante for a while before you met Nero and you had been with them for long enough to understand what kind of people they were. You could say with absolute certainty that none of them would ever dress in a suit like that and most definitely never style their hair as if they were aristocrats. Technically, they were; their bloodline was that of Sparda’s, which you knew was one of the great generals downstairs. The swords forged from outer space material, cursed and all, it all gave it away he was some important guy but he was the blood brother of the late king of hell, Mundus, second son to the family that had reigned hell for Lord knows how long. Technically, their father was a prince who might have later gotten the throne when he married a beautiful lady. (Umbran Witch, one of the strongest in fact, so strong that she could manipulate time and space at her will.) You just wouldn’t have expected him to be much more elegant in comparison to his brother.

“Yes, it is only to be expected.” Vergil’s voice, raspy and nothing like you had ever imagined, echoed in the room. Why were you so surprised when you had talked to him before in your visions? (Because you communicated through the energy of your life power, through molecules and vibration, you only had the illusion of hearing him.) He brought his hands to his lap where he tangled them, resting it on his knee. “Time itself is fluid to being like us higher up in the food chain, it is that much easier to manipulate in Hell for me, seeing it is where I originally belong.”

“I see you retrieved Yamato.” You said before you could realize what you were doing and think through your words again, how easily the conversation came to you as if you were long term friends or acquaintances at the very least with Vergil, leaving you at a loss; your eyes dead set on the sword which was now sheathed and leaned carefully right next to where Vergil was sitting. “You should give it back, you know? To Nero. It’s his now.”

“Not necessarily.” He seemed to be somewhat amused by your familiarity though as evidenced by the cunning way the corner of his lips curled in the slightest to let you know that he wasn’t, in fact, irritated by your interrogation although there was an undeniable glint to the grey of his eyes— reminding you not to overstep your boundaries and regardless of his seemingly good will, you were still beneath him in every sense of the word; just because you could put up a fight with a couple of lowlife demons didn’t necessarily mean you were ready to take on the Silver Fox of Hell just yet, or ever for that matter. “Again, not necessarily.” Your face must have molded into one of ignorance because he closed his eyes, continued. “Yamato resonates with me, it is my weapon, although briefly wielded by Dante after my fall, I take it. It originally belonged to my father, it calls to blood.”

Vergil seemed to have more to say on the matter, but your wit beat him to it. “It’s only fair it goes to Nero next, right? You know, next in line of ‘sons’ and all.”

“A real sunshine, innit?” It was the bathroom door opening and Dante’s voice resonating that made you look away from Vergil and back to see Dante walk out of the steaming place with a towel draped over his broad, wide shoulders; warm droplets of water trailing down his very toned albeit scarcely haired chest, very bare. Your eyes obediently followed a stray droplet almost as if you were lured into a trance by its fluid movement, gaze following the rippling muscles of the older man. Luckily for you, he had the decency to consider the other people within the vicinity and had put on a pair of army green baggy leather pants prior to his departure from the bathroom. He stood in front of you in all his glory, bare feet and dripping wet; obviously not having missed your mishap. Crap. “Got a mouth on her. Literally. Y’kids use protection?”

The raise of his eyebrows was enough to indicate that he knew what happened between you and Nero, not that it was any of his business. On second thought maybe it was, given he was the uncle and all. Did he have to say that in front of the long lost father, with a shit-eating grin on his face as if he knew it all, rubbing his hair dry in the process as if he were asking about your day. It took you less than a millisecond to turn beet red and choke on your spit, literally feeling your face and ears heat up. A very angered howl hollered from somewhere upstairs, telling Dante to go blow himself, came to your rescue although you weren’t sure which one of the two was more humiliating; everyone knowing about it or everyone talking about it? So you just scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, fingers running through your wild locks in an attempt to smooth them as if you just recalled they looked anything but decent.

“You know, Nero is blood.” You tried again, ignoring the conversation that made you incredibly uncomfortable regarding your sexual relations to Nero, continuing as if nothing had happened. Consider it a price to pay for being a total douche of a father, an utter shameful one at that full of failures and broken dreams, almost left your lips but you were quick enough to bite on your tongue to prevent the words from slipping, keeping in mind who was sitting in front of you— it was Vergil, as strong and capable as Dante, only much more deadlier and merciless; it wasn’t the same as joking around with the carefree devil himself. It was the much calmer and more collected Satan of a brother of his.

Vergil, on the other hand, seemed to be rather amused even though there wasn’t a slightest twitch to his flawless features— how well you were able to read him baffled you even if it was technically no different from resonating with Dante, it felt very much so; given there was a particular pattern to Dante’s personality and behavior whereas Vergil was unpredictably deadly. “Very well, we shall duel at dusk to claim the possession of Yamato, to declare who’s worthier.”

“Uh, let’s not. Last time you guys decided it was a good idea to fight it out, Dante fell from three hundred meters and you, well… We all know how that played out.”

Your foot tasted so good, you couldn’t stop shoving it deeper down your throat.

At the very least, that earned you a bark of laughter from Dante and a twitch of lips from Vergil. Oh, this was already beginning to feel like one big dysfunctional family when Nero walked in with his hair messy as he had evidently run his fingers through the white locks repeatedly albeit unconsciously prior to his coming in, dressed casually in a tank top and sweatpants— dare you say a little too comfortably for a man about to meet his father. Then again, nothing seemed out of place to you, everyone moved harmoniously and if you didn’t know any better, you would have guessed that they had known each other for years. It occurred to you then; the possibility of their having spoken the night before. It would make sense, since regardless of your position in their lives; it was still safer and way more comfortable to have a heart to heart alone rather than with curious pairs of eyes on you.

“It is interesting.” Vergil commented just as Nero sauntered over to you to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer to him so he could smack a minty kiss on your temple whereas Dante made his way over lazily with a box of col pizza from God knows when and opted to sprawl next to Vergil than his usual spot on his desk. Of course Vergil chose the exact moment to get up and walk over to you, towering over you, the killing effect of his sharp glare having softened by Dante’s exaggerated ‘Aw, man, seriously?’. “How far you can see. Do you happen to be the offspring of a human and an angel?”

Next to you, Nero stood taller than Vergil, as expected since he was now older than his father by approximately two years, as odd as it was; stance protective with his shoulders all wide and chest puffed up big to come off intimidating, you presumed. Classic alpha male behavior in face of predators, then again, Vergil was unfazed and he didn’t do as much to acknowledge the existence of his son right next to you with his arm around your waist, instead staring at you directly.

“No, no, sir, uh. One hundred percent human.”

Then his open palm reached out to you as if he wanted to see whether it would pass right through you, only to be threatened by Nero’s piercing glare and a declaration of ‘Hey!’ though you were quick to smooth his agitated nerves by looping your fingers through his as if to indicate that you were fine with this, that Vergil wouldn’t harm you.

And he didn’t, not really— when the hand he reached out to you with started glowing a bright blue and it passed right through your chest, it didn’t hurt. It didn’t even tickle, just gave you goose bumps and naturally, you couldn’t help a sharp inhale at the odd sensation of such intimacy. A furrow of his brows and a twitch of lips later, he was turning back to look at his now older brother munching on leftovers, hand leaving you. You could only breathe heavily with your eyes cast on where his hand had gone through, eyes wider.

“Dante. You do have an angel kissed within your territory and I take it you are very much aware of this, correct?” Dante rolled his eyes and tossed the box on the table in front of the worn couch unceremoniously, dusting his hands as if it would help with the grease from the pizza. “I’m skeptical, Vergil. Not an amateur, figured as much out.”

“Had you not been in utter denial of the superiority of your heritage, you would have known better.” Vergil heaved a sigh, eyebrows furrowing. “Did you honestly believe one would be inclined to do well out of the goodness of their heart, angel or not? Then again it is your redundantly altruistic nature that clouds your judgment.”

“Tell me, Dante, where do you think Heaven was when our Father turned against his own kin and blood to defend pestilence of humans? When he battled his own beloved brother and when humans needed help the most?”

Vergil stopped as if he wanted to give Dante time to be able to comprehend the gravity of his words, and how much sense the question made had your mind brewing with more inquires— you had encountered all kinds of demons all the time yet never an angel other than the fallen ally of yours; Lester. You seemed to be an exception, it wasn’t like angel roamed about, so it was only to be expected that Dante knew not of them much. Vergil, on the other hand, seemed to have done his homework long before. Rightfully, the now much older twin looked troubled even if it was evidenced by only a tiny shift in his features, which Vergil seemed to be extremely pleased by as he evidently understood his point had been made clear to the other.

“Heaven had been preparing for a battle of its own, just like Hell was at the time. It is grander than we believed, much greater a picture than what little of it that we saw before. It goes much beyond our births, even our Father’s, Dante. It dates back to our grandfather Crowley’s reign. How he, and Bartholomew, ruler of Heaven at the time, dragged the weak humanity into their own battlefield. A war has been brewing away from sight for thousands of years.”

“Bartholomew? Innit the sonuva bitch that dragged the whole damn Heaven into some sorta bloody battle? Y’know, where angels rained on earth, like Lester?” Dante cut in, his features now openly twisted into one of blatant confusion; elbows leaning on his knees so he could lean forward— interested.

You peeked a glance at Nero only to see his own perfect features forming a frown, it wasn’t hard to understand that Nero was familiar with the names while you were first hearing of them all. Classes, you thought suddenly, feeling the thread around your pinky pull at the distant recognition. Nero used to be a holy knight in Fortuna Island before he found out he had been serving the corrupt and abandoned his previous dedication. Holy knight were special soldiers working for the church that were taken in and trained from an early age, which meant that Nero had been taught about the legends surrounding Sparda and his kin when he was just a little kid, seeing that they worshipped the general and all.

“That Nosferatu you have established an intimate partnership, do you honestly believe it was a coincidence that he found her, have given a shelter to her, have been so generous to her, have been so very understanding and open with her so as not to break her heart? The Angel Kissed were humans altered by an angel’s grace touching them when they had yet to develop in their mother’s womb, not out of the goodness of their hearts, so the human children could aid them in the battle against demons. They are soldiers crafted by Heaven’s will, and Nosferatu, the so called ‘Fallen’ are the angels that have been chosen. They are those who did not participate in the conflict on purpose so they would not have to cheat its own laws. They are the ones who fell to and broke their wings willingly, so they could look after the Angel Kissed until their time came.”

The more Vergil spoke, the worse you felt. In your head, blossomed a heavy, uncontrollable ache that had you vision fading gradually and in your stomach, you felt a hundred thousand bugs wandering around, eating your flesh from inside out. Everything that came out of the man you loved as if he were your own father had been nothing more than sugar coated words, empty promises; all scripted long before you were even born. Everything he had been to you was not because he had loved you and cherished you, it was because he was scared you would break before they used you, exploited you and rid of you. Until then, you were loved like a daughter, treated like one so you would fall for his pretty little words and follow him around like the fool you had been so far.

It hurt, finding out that you had been a fool; however what set your heart on fire and had salty tears rolling down your puffy, red cheeks was the fact that you had been played by one of the people you had loved unconditionally for so long that you actually believed he did the favors he did out of the goodness of his heart. You thought he supported you when you wanted to get stronger because he genuinely didn’t want you to get harmed, because he genuinely believed you could achieve something as a person— not because he wanted to make sure their dormant soldier was sharp and acute for when they needed, for when the time came. What he had been to you was a father you so missed having, and how foolish it had been of you to fall for that.

“Motherfucker.”

You didn’t even realize that it was you who spoke until you heard your own voice. You distinctly felt your own nails inside your own palms and the coppery taste of blood in your mouth made you aware of the fact that you had been biting your tongue in the blind rage of this shocking revelation. The weight of it was much to carry on your shoulders, hence the rumbling, you then presumed. Dust rained over you as the whole building shook, ages old furniture squeaked and every single piece of glass that was in the shop turned to million little pieces with the ferocity of the quake. Your mind was way too slow to comprehend the way Nero’s arms wrapped around you in a protective cocoon to shield you from all the glass that flew around all over the shop, and when you felt him pull you in and got a generous whiff of his extravagant boyish scent that was all him, you realized the culprit of the earthquake had been your emotions running wild in your head.

The lulling motion of misshaped finger smoothing your messy locks couldn’t extinguish the bitter flames of betrayal alight in your guts, but it was enough to shake you out of your initial shock. Dante and Vergil was alert, and you thought maybe Nero intended to protect you from them than the glass for a matter of second before the thought dissolved in your head. It made sense, after all, you were nothing but a tool that was simply way too dangerous, like a ticking time bomb that could go off at any moment and it would make a lot of sense if the two actually put you down before you participated in any shithole of a war at all. The tightening of Nero’s arm around your shoulders reminded you of your bond and you felt the tug of the invisible string around your pinky again— it was Nero’s warning, silently telling you to get it together, that you were not yourself then to think logically.

“That Lester fiend is no different.” Vergil spoke, now, to you and you could see fury ablaze within icy blue orbs of his, voice relatively softer. You then understood, saw clearly the origin of his aggression and unforeseen length of his speech— rage. Vergil had always been the more calm and collected one in comparison to Dante, he was the one of the two who thought of their heritage as something sacred, something to be treasured and constantly fed so that they would take their place above the humanity, adopt the role of ruling their superior reign over them; but he had changed over the years.

You saw it in the way his lips pressed into a thin line, the agitated state of his, the anger in his orbs… Vergil hadn’t been treated kindly in hell, whatever he had to go through for Lord knows how many years on end didn’t meet his expectations of the said place— he had been shaped, sharpened, hardened; he was showing vulnerability. He was showing more humanity than he had ever done so in the entirety of his life on earth and you knew as well as you knew your own name that he had never been as human as he was right then ever before. It wasn’t about his noble sacrifice to save his brother, it was the things he had to see and go through before finally making it out that changed him. For the better, you supposed, because the old Vergil that wanted a throne was gone. Now was a starved man for vengeance, for justice; sharing his brother’s ideals maybe for the first time in his life; now siding with humanity.

“I could have found my way out. My body was made for that, I am less of a human than a demon. I survived so long due to my demonic heritage that came with tolerance and durability. I could have gotten out, however. I was trapped within the depths of Hell by the spell he cast on Anaon. Lester manipulated the swordsman into not giving them away. He refused to speak of his name not because of a foolish promise, because he needed time. When he hinted you in the right direction, it was to keep Dante in line.”

“You.” He took a step closer to you, and beside you, Nero stiffened before relaxing at your touch. Ever so protective of you he was, even against his own father. Then again, you probably knew more about Vergil than Nero did, so it was to be expected that he would lash out— you didn’t think Nero would hesitate to battle Vergil if you were on the line, no matter how egoistic that might have sounded in your head, in your heart, you knew it was true. “You are the soulmate of my son. My blood. Had it been another Angel Kissed, I would not have been able to resonate with you. You and I, we share a more profound bond.”

When Dante wandered towards the three of you with the aura of something you couldn’t quite name and stood still, the four of you were in the middle of the battered shop in silence. It was Dante who broke it with a snicker that blossomed into a genuine laughter that echoed in the room and rumbled in his chest. Both his hands were on either side of his waist when he, honest to God, giggled. As he kept laughing, entertained by something none of you could quite understand then, he clutched at his stomach with one hand as the other’s index finger graciously wiped off a tear— both hands then meeting in the middle to clap loudly, for half a minute before he was done.

“That sonuva bitch!” Dante spoke, honestly humored, and in his voice was pure glee. He didn’t look troubled, or even angered by the fact that the man you trusted if not the most turned out to be a snake and the fact that Dante was so very comfortable with the idea was fanning the flames of anger lit within your core, except this time it set his white locks aflame in your head. “He played me like a goddamn fiddle, that old fart. ‘Nd I didn’ even know any better. Good one, V.”

Dante glanced at Vergil, and vice versa— it was as if they had an unspoken conversation with one another before Dante spoke again, with the intention of explaining what you and Nero failed to see.

“You ‘nd I, we’re the first ones, yeah? First abomination, so when y’dumped yer ass in Hell they decided t’lock y’up ‘nd when I thought I was conductin’ a pretty damn good business ‘ere away from pryin’ eyes ‘nd shit, they decide ta sniff ‘round then collar me up.” Dante explained, this time to the two of you, with his arms wide on either end. He paused to chuckle again, pointing an accusing finger in Nero’s direction.

“And you! Oh, boy. Y’were essential, the ‘second generation fuck up’ of ours. They knew y’were there somewhere, but where the hell? Then they dig around some, find out your whereabouts ‘nd well, that y’exist b’fore they start talkin’ in the underground business. They talk and talk about a faraway island and talk ‘bout how they worshipped a goddamn demon as their god so I’ll hear ‘bout it ‘nd do somethin’ about it. And I doi cause I also got my guys wanderin’ the halls. You an’ I, we meet. And I know at first sight, course I do, cause you an’ I, we just got the juice, y’know? And how d’you think that, y’know, y’remember the old fart who played the god? How d’you think he managed to work his way up to the top, with the shit of a research of that bug boy? Why’d they call ‘emselves angels? Cause they were tipped, just lead in the right direction, lead to thinkin’ they were actually angels since, y’know, they saw the goddamn things when all they became were stinky demons.”

Dante was walking now, circling around Vergil in what appeared to be a dramatic display of arrogance, as if he were solving a mysterious riddle— and he seemed to be having so much fun with it that you felt even angrier at how lightly he was taking the entire thing. The man you thought the world of had been using you and would have lead the three of you to a battle you didn’t even want to fight had it not been for Vergil, and Dante was so damn cheery that it pissed you off. Evidently, Nero was affected by your waving emotions because you could just see how agitated he was; the tension the two of you felt was quite literally tangible in the air— so palpable that you could just reach out if you wanted to and take it; you would easily be able to forge it into a brick and smack Dante on the head with it if you so wanted.

“They knew you’d be dyin’ t’know. They knew you’d come. They got me hooked, ‘nd you, but they didn’t see her comin’. That the two of you’d do the do, which is odd, since the carvings on your hearts shoulda been in Enochian, then again, Nero’s more on the horns ‘nd tails side. Literally, so it musta been carve in Dimoori.”

“And what’s so damn funny about it?” You were surprised when Nero couldn’t help asking with venom laced words, unable to help himself as he was thoroughly affected by your mood fluctuations; maybe he wasn’t, really, and was also pissed beyond recognition— you couldn’t understand, really, not with how much Dante was pissing you off with the amount of fun he was having. It put you on the edge and whether you affected Nero or not was beyond you— then again, it didn’t seem unlikely that he would be pissed off also by something like that.

“Cause he got me. He totally got me, ‘nd I didn’t see jackshit. He had been playin’ me for… what? Two- three years? And I didn’t even doubt him when he came in strollin’ and I have trust issues, I do. But he waited, patiently, lurked in the damn shadows ‘nd came in when I wasn’ suspectin’ a thing. That’s good. That’s so good, I haven’t even had a challenge since Vergil. Since him, I knew when I drew my sword that I would win.”

His response took you by surprise, but after giving it some thought, you saw where he was getting at— Vergil always kept Dante on the edge; whenever they fought, they were serious. Vergil was the only one on earth who could face Dante head on, and even win against him more than once— meaning Dante never really knew whether he would win against his twin or not. The thrill came with his life being on the edge, a matter of skill and more of a game than anything else; and Dante was known to be a gambler. No one could provide him with the same sort of excitement, nothing at all. And after so long, just realizing with the help of his brother that he had been manipulated into being friends with someone and living the last three years of his life was a wake up call. It was the arrival of a rival so great, that it challenged even him and slipped past his defenses unnoticed. That also meant that Dante would be serious for once in his life when facing an opponent. Which meant ultimately, that there was simply no way you wouldn’t win whatever this was.

“Do not take me for this pest. I would never have stooped so low, Dante.”

“Not in a million years.” Dante agreed, turning to face Vergil with a widegrin splitting his face in half. “But y’know what, brother?”

More than anything, it was a rhetorical question. So when a reply came from Vergil, of all people, you were surprised.

“It is game on, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a loooong break, I'm back! Thank you for your support, this story is nearing to an end and I'm grateful to those of you who have been with me through this journey. Please continue to share your thoughts on this project, as they help motivate me to improve myself and keep up the work!


	18. novis initiis;

                                                                                **[ 6 MONTHS LATER ]**

 

 

The smell of freshly brewed coffee reached your nostrils before the light shyly peeking through the half opened curtains reached you to kiss your skin to a warm morning, beating the refreshing, salty ocean smell in the process. You first recognized the strong, delightful smell of coffee filling your lungs and stimulating your half-asleep mush of a brain— then the sugar and salted butter in the air, the smell so enticingly sweet that you felt you could actually taste it on your tongue if you just opted to open your mouth. Hard at work, someone was, first thing in the morning as evidenced by the constant sound of pans being moved and plates being placed and the thought of it alone was enough to make your puffy lips stretch out wide in a cat-like smile, your pearly white teeth poking out.

 

Before opening your eyes to the warm sunlight caressing whatever exposed skin you had that was not covered by the cushions and oversized t-shirt you had on under the silk blankets, you took a deep breath of the smell of the ocean and coffee first thing in the morning and turned to your side with a smile on your face, your pillow’s cold side creating an entirely new sensation that you enjoyed. Nice as the environment was, you kept your lids blanketed over your eyes not to disturb the innocent image of you appearing sound asleep regardless of the fact that you were in fact not— a tricky illusion to lure your prey in.

 

The sounds, no doubt coming from the kitchen, stopped a few minutes later much to your delight, seeing as to how you were the one being lured in by the silky softness of your bed to an endless sleep once again— only to be followed by the sound of naked feet padding on the floor, nearing closer every second. Then they stopped, you heard clothes rustle and an amused huff before the padding resumed. When it stopped, you felt the bed beside you dip and as the blankets rustled; you had a hard time keeping the smile off of your face.

 

“Hey. I know you’re awake, you little vixen. ‘S mornin’ already, get up.”

 

You would never, ever get tired of hearing him speak; he could recite the phonebook and you would enjoy every single second of it, and you would never, ever get tired of his musky, manly scent unique to his own, and never get tired of the way he felt next to you and how you seemed to fit within his hold perfectly— almost as if you two were the two pieces of a puzzle made to be put together to form something much better, something much more worth looking at; something less broken and every thing that was perfect. You would never get tired of feeling his calloused hands run through your messy, admittedly dirty locks of hair, fingers trailing down your cheek and following your jawline so his thumb could run over your bottom lip, tugging it a bit. The way he leaned over you, minty breath washing your face, tips of your noses bumping as the soft, white locks brushed your forehead—

 

“No, Nero—” You turned your face away from his with a whine so his lips missed yours and landed on your cheek instead; and by the way you felt him silently chuckle against your chilled skin rather than heard it, you thought he had predicted it would happened. Either way, feeling lost without an explanation even after all this time spent living together and knowing each other inside and out, you could not help your childish huff. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, terrible morning breath.”

 

“I don’t care.” This time, you heard him chuckle and as his thumb and index finger closed around your jaw to turn your head to him so he could mesh your lips together. As if it were drilled into you from birth as some sort of an instinct, your lips moved against his as he shifted away from you to adjust himself into a more comfortable position above you; your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in even closer— his scent filling your lungs. Minty. He must have gotten up early in the morning, taken a shower and brushed his teeth unlike you who ignored the whole thing and just slept in instead. He even prepared a breakfast for you, which was not anything unusual given the way he liked to spoil you and his nature as an early bird. As nice as feeling his muscles dancing beneath your fingers, you delved a hand into his white locks to pull your lips away from the other. When he forced your head deeper into your pillow and you failed, your fingers tightened into a fist so you could tug his head away from you.

 

Your aggression earned you a deep, throaty groan from the other, which you felt vibrate through your whole being from head to toe. Not about to give in, you blamed your stubborn nature for that, you opted another warning— watching the icy blue orbs roll in a scold. “I’m sweaty. My hair’s dirty. And I stink all over, Nero. I haven’t taken a shower in days.”

 

“So what?” He huffed when you faced away to spare him your grotesque morning breath and kissed your ear before nibbling on the lobe, leaving you a hesitant mess with each kiss he peppered down the side and front of your neck. “You been workin’ hard for us, babe. Good thing we’re almost done settin’ up the joint.”

 

Then in all seriousness, he raised his head to look at you with his brows furrowed as if he was in actual wonder, plump lips set into a tight line— making the same face he did whenever demons and you were in the same premises regardless of how hard you trained, how you defeated the army of heaven and how you could now wield two katanas with your eyes closed.

 

“All that sweepin’ and scrubbin’, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a place cleaner than that—an’ I was a _holy_ knight, spendin’ Sundays at _churches_ and all.”

 

You could not help a chuckle at that, your own frown dissolving and giving away to laughter, hands on Nero’s shoulders, now moving in a grinding motion to loosen the knots and make him relax. You were awarded for your efforts –anyone, any idea how hard it was play the masseuse with a muscle machine?– with yet another groan, and a tilt of head. He truly looked glorious with his eyes closed and lips agape in wonder; a sign he truly trusted you and your touch, your judgment and whatever you had in store. You could have a knife in your way and be ominously walking in his direction with the pure intention of sewing an arm of his, not that you would _ever_ , and he would still let you do as you like; knowing it was probably for a reason and for the better of the two of you. That kind of commitment did not scare you— in fact you welcomed with open arms as Nero sunk into you, basking in the comfort that came with it.

 

Undeterred by your distraction, Nero opened his eyes and looked into yours in a way that captured you and rendered you motionless with your gazes locked; his way of making sure you knew he would truly mean what he was going to say. Though his gaze softened, and his otherwise pale skin was dusted with a light pink.

 

“Messy hair, whatever. You’re always gorgeous inside an’ out.”

 

Neither of you said anything for a while after that, instead getting lost in the feeling of one another; your fingers tangled in his soft, white locks and his hands, both human and demonic, mapping out your curves. The sensation was so easy to get lost into; as you wanted more of him and he wanted more of you, your breathing quickened, chest moving up and down enthusiastically.

 

Nero broke away from your lips for a moment to let you take in a deep breath, your foreheads touching. While you were wrapped in his glory, his eyes were instead cast downwards, noting how you had no article of clothing or undergarments beneath the oversized, grey shirt he lent you after last night’s activities. Encouraged by the way he was looking at you, almost as if you were a prized wonder exclusively in his possession, to be taken care of and to be looked after by him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, naked skin comfortable against the sweatpants he had on. That certainly got his attention back on your face, eyes locked with yours as he descended to pepper kisses just above your chest, his right hand gradually moving the t-shirt you had on upwards— texture leathery and slightly chilled against your warm skin.

 

“What’s the plan today?” He asked, seemingly nonchalant in the way he was kissing you and very slowly undressing you. A game of his, you realized just a little too late as you were caught up in the feeling of his skin against yours, granted more and more every second, your eyes closed and lips parted in excitement. When your overheated brain finally processed his question, your eyes opened and you licked your lips in a vain attempt to wet them, hands giving his shoulders an encouraging squeeze.

 

“Ah… Hm, yeah.” It was important, really, as you have not yet talked about it and when you meant business, you meant it; however it was not as easy to elaborate with what he was doing. With his shirt pushed up to your neck, your breasts naked against the cold ocean breeze coming from the open window, and his left hand cupping your ribcage, his lips latched onto a tightened nipple. Your hand gave his locks a tug and your breathing quickened as your attention diverted between supplying him an answer and focusing on the sensations caused by his wandering lips and rather relentless teeth. “The cleaning’s done… And… And the furniture is… set. We have internet and telephone, so… Cable is working, and all that’s left is to— ah! Nero—”

 

Kisses trailed down until he was nibbling the soft skin of your tummy with your legs resting on his broad shoulders, right hand seeking yours to lace your fingers together while his left wandered downwards, lips following the path of his curious fingers. You could not look away from the man between your legs as he held you down and he kissed around the apex of your thighs— purposely avoiding where you ached for him the most. When he looked up and caught your eyes on him, his lips stretched into a smirk so sinful, you tossed your head back in an attempt to avoid that look, feeling your face burning a brand new shade of red.

 

“Yeah? To what?” He pressed on to have you continue talking so he could take pride in the way your breath hitched and the way your chest moved, the way your legs tried in vain to twitch away from his grip, the way both your hands curled against the sheets when the fingers of his right hands slipped from yours to wrap around your other leg so he could prop your bottom half up and support your weight. Cruel he was, in the way his fingers moved in tandem with his tongue against your folds, in the way his thumb separated your folds shamelessly to have easier access, in the way the tip of his nose teased briefly every now and then against your clit, in the way his leathery palm pressed tight right between your hipbones to amplify what you were feeling.

 

“To… Ah— Ngh!” You gave up on trying to keep up with his teasing long ago, heels of your feet now digging into his back as your hips bucked up fervently trying to ride the waves of pleasure he was bestowing on you, fingers curled so tight into your silk sheets you could feel your nails digging into your palms. Already slick with pleasure to the point you could clearly hear him. His name left your lips over and over and over as if repeating it somehow comforted you, grounded you in the moment and helped you through your tremors, as if it made the experience all the better.

 

“Nero…” By the time he stopped and moved up your body to press his lips against yours passionately, you had already broken into a sweat and flushed red down to your chest, your breathing uneven. Even though tasting yourself on his mouth left you shivering, since he left you quivering at the brink of your peak but did not quite bring you there, one of your hands impatiently tugged at his tank top up and over his head so he had to break away from you briefly as the other pushed his sweatpants low enough with the help of your heels; feeling just how bare he was beneath the article of clothing.

 

“I know, baby, I know.” He hushed against your lips as you kept on whimpering his name like it was some sort of a mantra, hands snatching a hold of your hips right after having ridden you of the t-shirt. Even with his cooing, you didn’t stop, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him in for another kiss, legs tighter around his waist so you could actually feel him against your folds every time you bucked your hips in an attempt to make him move. “Lie back for us, okay?”

 

As he instructed, you loosened your hold around him until your hands were on his, giving him more room. As embarrassing as being completely exposed in front of his eyes was; he was in the same position, bare chest glistening with sweat and moving with his breaths. Thankfully, he did not make you wait any longer and slid into your heat, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss only to miss when your head fell back with a deep groan as you felt him fill you up.

 

Instead, he opted an open mouthed, filthy kiss on just above your chest before he straightened his back for a better angle, eyes on yours cautiously. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah…” You were quick to reply, breathlessly, feet locking at his hips so you could urge him forwards and your knees parting to allow him in deeper into you until he was fully sheathed in your folds, until you could feel all of him pulsing inside of you. “Yeah, I’m good. Please, Nero, please. I can’t—”

 

A gentle roll of his lips had you keening, having anticipated this for a long time with only a little in turn. As the two of you found a soft, yet demanding pace gradually rising into something a little more ominous, a little more unforgiving— your breaths hitched with each firm rock into your soft heat, voice getting louder and louder until Nero’s lips found yours just to muffle the enthusiastic groans by a little bit. Your arms trailed along his arms and bulging muscles until one of your palms cupped his nape and the other tugged at his locks.

 

Feeling his chest against you and his soft groans, grunts and sometimes airy moans of your name right next to your ear, the sweat between your bodies making it easier to move— it was all too much for you to handle at once. When his right hand held you and encouraged you to follow his lead, his pace, his left trailed down your torso until his thumb found your clit, soft touches, flicks and twists aiding his thrusts in riding you to your peak. And close, you were so close with the way he was touching you, rocking against you— he knew where to touch and when to, thumb brushing against just where you liked it the best, his hips angled so he could brush over your sweet spot with each thrust.

 

“Nero, baby, I’m—” You did not need to say anything, by the way he was furrowing his brows tight in concentration and he way he was desperately biting on his lower lip, he knew that you were so, so close. “Ah! God— Nero! Nero!”

 

“Yeah, I know, princess. C’mon, y’can do it. I’m here, c’mon. Do it for me. Cum for me.” He continued uttering filthy words and dark mantras of desire and possession right next to your ear until you could not take it any longer. The fluttering of your insides followed a tight squeeze, your mouth open long after the cry of your release left it, eyes closed tight against your will. Nero’s hips were slowly rocking into you, fingers working you through your tremors, guiding you through your orgasm.

 

 By the way he slowed, you could see he was content with stopping there as he accomplished his mission of pleasuring you. Spent and absolutely content as you were; you were having none of that. You opened your legs wider and urged him forward by your heels, arms around his shoulders, fingers rubbing comforting circles into his muscled back. “Nero, please. Baby please, please, please, please—”

 

It did not take much to convince him and guide him into a pace yet again; with each rock of his hips into your own, you uttered his name as you knew just how much he liked it, fingers tugging at his locks to hear him groan again and again until his hold around you tightened and nails bit into your creamy, supple skin just right. “Ah, Jesus, I’m—”

 

With his head buried into the crook of your neck and groans muffled by your skin, he shuddered. The feel of him filling you up deep and so full had you clinging onto him desperately until he went completely limp inside you. Ever so slowly, in order not to hurt you, he pulled out of you and rolled next to you, arms caging you in.

 

“Now we both need a shower.”

 

“Shower. Breakfast. Later.” You hummed, with your head against Nero’s chest.

 

With your chest pressed against his muscles and your eyes open, you could see the three swords leaned on the opposite wall. The twin katanas, which now belonged to Nero as Vergil claimed Yamato back, and Red Queen.

 

Looking back at them brought memories back, not that you touched the twin swords ever since taking down the Heaven’s  army— literally. The betrayal was bitter on your tongue, not to mention Dante’s, seeing as to how Lester was an acquaintance he trusted Nero, you and even more back in the day. All could be forgotten and brushed aside, really, it was not like it mattered— people screwed one another over all the time, and he was no exception. Except for one thing he could never, ever forgive— keeping his (now baby) brother away from him. That he knew Vergil was still alive and stuck in time, that he had been fighting for thousands of years downstairs since the time progressed differently in Hell than it did on human earth, that there was a way of getting him back and still kept all that from him.

 

Dante was not enraged when he took down one after another of Heaven’s fallen servants; on the contrary, he had a big grin on his face that neither of you had ever seen him have. He was overjoyed, showing off his skills, toying with his opponent as if they were a few thousand years early to be challenging him. Beneath that grin, you could see his flaming eyes filled with rage, with vengeance, and he was enjoying every single second of this slaughter party.

 

It was interesting, to say the least— fighting alongside a deadly serious Dante and Vergil left the rest of you at ease; only taking care of those who tried to go stray, and doing so quickly.

 

Portals closed, limbs amputated— all that left on the battlefield was one artificial demon, two twin half demons, one quarter demon and two humans albeit one was admittedly dysfunctional and not quite human; having taken down an entire army with only a few broken bones and ribs, some of which healed quickly, some of which left scars you would never forget.

 

After that slaughter party, you half expected Vergil and Nero to have a private talk; you could imagine how awkward it was to have a son older than you by a few years and your _younger_ twin brother about a dozen years older than you. Much to your surprise, it did not happen. You all went back to Devil May Cry, Vergil reluctant but content at heart; had a few slices of pizza and beer as if it was not really a big deal— the whole process of provoking war against servants of God.

 

Two more months of chaos later, Nero and you decided to move in together. To Fortuna Island, back to his home. And you did— there were no tears shed on the half and quarter demons’ part, but you hugged Dante tight and cried a few tears in his chest at the thought of leaving him and not seeing him for a while as you had gotten used to— a nonchalant man with the biggest heart you had ever seen a man –a demon– have. Dante wrapped an arm around Nero’s shoulders and ruffled his hair, and as growls of annoyance and threats of death flied in the air Vergil, on the other hand, got offered a handshake by you as a goodbye, which was not reciprocated.

 

A few weeks later, you had your own home— a place by the ocean with a beautiful garden. Two months later, you had a new place; a yet to be named shop; waiting for you two to go take care of maintenance once you had taken a shower, cleaned yourselves up and had a breakfast.

 

Not an hour later, a huge package was delivered to your unnamed shop, by an anonymous sender; which got both your and Nero’s attention. Inside the place, as you were unpacking the delivery, the recently connected phone on the desk rang, catching both you and Nero by surprise. As he trailed off to answer it, the delivery put a huge grin on your face, and then a roar of laughter— making Nero look in your direction curiously.

 

On the ground, was a sign big enough to go over your shop— written in red and the same, familiar font.

 

Nero answered the phone, and you read the sign aloud.

 

“Devil May Cry.”

 

On your minds, the same thing.

 

 

**Thank you, Dante. For everything.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the road! I owe a thanks to those of you who stuck with me 'till the end of this, believe me when I say; I know who you are and I cannot say how much I appreciated your lovely comments and encouragements throughout the whole process of writing this! It's been over a year since I started publishing this idea of mine which blossomed into something much more exciting. And that's all thanks to you. Unfortunately, it comes to an end today. But worry not, since this series is complete, I can focus on new DMC series in progress! Thank you all.


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